Tactical Destiny
by Kiri Asakura
Summary: After a bleak stay to military service in Afghanistan, Dr. John Watson back to London to continue to live a civil life trying to forget the past that now has terribly afflicted him. Trying to overcome the fact that he can never again regain the great romance that inescapable fate in the desert made him live beside the tenacious Sergeant John Porter.
1. An Oasis in the desert

**Note:** Well, this is my new fic Richartin (you know it's Thilbo in parallel worlds :v). This fic is based on a crossover between the BBC series Sherlock and also the british series Strike Back fic ;)

The main pairing is John Porter / John Watson and history and plot unfolds around the fate that brought them together in the desert while they were serving in the military and their love that lived together thereafter.

….

 _ **Chapter 1 - An Oasis in the desert**_

John Watson had spent another restless night in which his most recurrent nightmares had incurred from the depths of his dreams; he had had nightmares every night since his return to London from the arid lands of the Middle East. It was another night when John Watson had managed to sleep until very late at night after long hours of wakefulness turning in bed, thinking about each of the things that devastated him. Thinking about how alone now he was among those four walls of his small and modest bedroom.

A few weeks ago he had been staying at a hotel in London but because the pay received by his army pension was not enough he had to think about renting a modest little room and move there. Anyway he was now alone. And the house that he had purchased with his partner a year ago was too big for him.

Watson did not want to remember the person who he had loved so much and that had made him so happy during the past year. The rigidity with which he had instituted did him suppress all that kind of feelings, in his ideology seemed to be better the idea of removing something that already was hopeless, something that had no reverse gear. Porter was dead and shed a tear for that would not revive him. The best was to continue the course of his life and what it could provide him with the passing of the days, months and years.

But although he himself did not want that he could not help feeling terribly devastated, he could not help mourn. After all, despite the strict military training he had not ceased to be a human, a human who loved, because nevertheless he always will love Porter. John Porter, he had the same name that him, John, John Watson. They were the same age and both were British citizens who had served to his nation in the midst of warfare.

But Porter had died in fulfilling his mandate, with all the strength and tenacity and demeanor of a sergeant. And sadly Watson had not even been able to assist a funeral to say goodbye to him one last time.

Over the day, contrary to recover, John Watson felt increasingly depressed and his leg wound worsened the situation significantly.

Almost immediately after moving into his new home Watson decided to consult a psychologist and therapist just how before a few days ago some of his acquaintances had suggested to him. He was not sure if it could mitigate some of his depression but he thought it could at least distract him a little, forget, that was what he mainly wanted. Watson was not shown too optimistic.

He walks clumsily helped with his staff to reach the site where the therapist was. That would be his first session and really it was difficult because he could not even express to himself how it was that he actually felt about all that, to be alone, after being injured and especially after losing the love of his life in that cruel and terrible way.

After a while of mentioning the external aspects of himself to the psychologist and begin to understand the dynamics that led a session the therapist suggested that he should start to write a personal blog about his concerns because to do that would help him to unburden his sorrows. Until then Watson had been rather introverted and elusive, he had completely omitted the life that he had beside Porter and even hide his sexual preference. All therapists in the world could go to hell after all, neither of them nor anyone else could know anything and much less understand his feelings. Go to therapy prove to be merely routine for him or something like that, at least until he getting used a little again to live a civil life in London.

At night when Watson returned home to enjoy a tasteless dinner that he had prepared for himself without much effort he pondered a lot about the fact that his pride of military doctor and pride of himself had been the real factor because he had omitted to talk about Porter to the therapist.

He thought then if he would continue to do that for as long the duration of the therapy and then he decided that indeed it would be best. He decided that if he was going to delete of his thoughts and his memory to Porter then he should also delete it from his conversations as well. He thought he never will date with another man anymore. Maybe later he could try with women. Porter's death was hurting him too much.

Definitely he needed a new life.

 _ **FLASH BACK ON**_

It was a mild day in the streets of London. The agent John Porter was walking back to his house. It was a normal day, nothing important had happened since he had returned to his native country after the success of his mission in Zimbabwe. Fortunately for him, he was able to take some days off but now he could not stop thinking about the death of his ex-wife and especially in the contempt of his daughter who still believed that he was the cause of the death of his fellow seven years ago.

Some years since had happened since had been withdrawn the charge of a sergeant in the Special Air Service after that fateful incident in Iraq. Those days filled with gunpowder and violence had ended and he thought he would never get involved with foreign terrorists ever to his old companion Hugh Collinson, manager in charge of MI6 section 20 British Secret Intelligence Service had called him to give him charge an important mission in Iraq, the same place where they had been shot three of his companions, resulting in two dead and one of them in vegetative state.

After successfully completed the new mission in Iraq and in Zimbabwe one day he was called again from the secret service agency MI6 by Collinson who ordered to assign to him a new mission in Afghanistan.

"Someone has hacked the ground encryption codes"

"If the Taliban are able to access our systems and redirect our missiles it would be very serious. We need answers and solutions as quickly as possible. Perhaps we have a new type of terrorist class. We have to stop it soon" said Collinson.

"Gerald Baxter in Iraq 2003 was technical-support contractor, civilian, not military. A missile guidance software engineer. But he screwed up. He was responsible for the accidental bombing of a village where women and children died. Baxter was found psychologically unfit for active service in conflict zones. He returned to Britain where he was diagnosed and hospitalized for post-traumatic stress disorder. We think that he may now be in Afghanistan. All records of Gerald Baxter stop at September 2005. There's no trance of him after that date" said Lt. Thompson.

"Okay John, your mission is to locate and extract Gerald Baxter" Collinson said as he gave to Porter a folder with information about his false identity and how he must to carry out his mission.

"So I go in as an arms dealer? then I want a translator and a fixer with connections to the Taliban" said Porter decided.

That was a tough night for Porter because he had to learn all about the software commands for missile launches. It was not an easy task because he really didn't know much about the subject, he was not an engineer such as Baxter, but was dogged and determined and that helped him to memorize everything about such weapons.

After several hours of flight in one of the jets of the special British military force and having to go through a thorough transfer to the infiltrated area Porter reached the city of Kabul where a helicopter was waiting for him and then it took him into southwestern Afghanistan, in the province of Helmand. Porter came along with his guide and translator designated to a kind of small bazaar, where the governor of the province who would buy alleged weapons was hidden.

He was presented with the false name of Tom Wallace and then began trading.

"So that's 7.32 by .39 mil 7.32 FMJ ammunition with steel core" said Porter to his prospective buyer who was looking at him with serious fixing. Besides Porter told them the price and the total units that could offer them "c'mon, ukrainian manufacture fully accredited EUCs"

But after the assistant of the governor told him he was not interested in such weapons, Porter decided to talk once about what his true ambush.

"I have associates connected to Arafel Systems in Chandrigar. These associates can get access to the LTD code encryption software on the next generation of Brimstone laser-guided missiles. Yeah, a hacker's paradise. These weapons are due to come online with ISAF forces within the next three months. Control them and you control the war.

After leaving the place without consummating the negotiation, Porter was intercepted by several men who covered his head with a sack and put him into a truck. They had kidnapped Porter.

After coming face to face with Gerald Baxter and having to escape the Taliban group that had hidden certain corrupt ties with US officials, Porter found out what had really happened on that fateful incident in Iraq seven years ago. All this time he had lived a lie, everything had always been guilt of Collinson. And without he have imagined before now he was face to face with Collinson, in this arid land of the border between Afghanistan and Pakistan, on tribal lands, finally facing the tragic mistakes of the past that had eventually turned everything into a heap of selfishness. Baxter had died at the hands of the Taliban, despite all the times that Porter had managed to save his life during the journey through the desert.

A fierce fight broke out between Porter and Collinson in that house made of adobe in the desert. Until, after a group of Taliban found them, Collinson was seriously wounded and decided to drive a hand grenade with the last strength of his life, while Porter escaped unhurt in the jeep SUV.

But Frank Arlington and Zahir Sharq still were with the firm and austere order to find and neutralize Porter, obliterate him of their affairs. Their closest contacts had informed them that Porter probably headed in the direction towards Iran so he perhaps had diverted his route to the other border.

Porter's jeep crossed the road in the middle of the dirt way to reach Lashkar Gah, where he knew he could find help and shelter of his British comrades. But the desert is an inhospitable place and the fuel would not last him too much. At night and being completely exhausted Porter knew he had to stop the vehicle to rest even if it was only for a moment. He thought that since he had become in soldier this was the first time he really felt alone in the desert. Besides sometimes he still could not help to feel a bit of sadness for what had happened with the death of Steve, Baxter and Collinson. He also felt that it was the first time in the desert that could stop a bit to admire the starry sky at night.

Porter had to endure the cruel cold of the night of the desert, slept curled up inside the jeep but certainly could not fall right asleep because his mind demanded to be always alert, those who persecuted him could surprise him at any time and at anywhere and then kill him without he could notice it.

Early in the morning just as the sun began to raise behind the mountains, which were visible still a little distant, Porter awoke from his sleep. It had been a good night's sleep despite everything, now he felt strong enough again to continue his hard way up towards the British camp in Lashkar Gah, but he knew still had a long way to go.

He perked up as soon as he could and realized that also was very hungry, he could not even remember when had been the last time he had eaten anything. Perhaps he was also dehydrating, in his canteen he discovered that was no longer even a drop of water, but that should not stop his escape. He had to draw strength from wherever to go on, he had to put aside his hunger and thirst. The road was still long but not eternal and he was decided not to let himself die in this way in the desert after having endured all, after having fought that way.

The accounts were settled, Steven and Collinson were died, his target Baxter was dead as well but he still wanted to live his life in London and give to himself other opportunities to continue to serve on missions for the military, something in what he had always delivered.

He started the Jeep quickly while the cool weather in the morning began rapidly to become back into a scorching heat. While Porter was driving the Jeep on the arid desert he sometimes could not help feel falter due to lack of food, water and the sweltering heat. But his tenacity was relentless and soon he could see how the dunes gradually decreased. The mountains were increasingly closer to him, he wanted to think it was real and not a vague mirage. He had never experienced one but he knew that could always be a first time for everything.

But above all Porter felt very grateful because had not seen any terrorist for now. Everything was going well, he just had to withstand a little more. Unfortunately, his mobile phone was now completely useless and even if from section 20 in London had been trying to contact him all attempts were in vain. Until then the MI6 didn't know yet the fact that Collinson was dead and that Porter was traveling alone in the desert.

The special agency would send jets and a helicopter of the British Special Forces in search of their two militaries in mission, but at that time Porter would reaching Lashkar Gah and would be safe in the British military camp.

Finally just detracted less than 20mi to get there but Zahir Sharq and his men did not give up and had sent for his capture from the day before. The enormity of the desert had hampered them a little their task at a moment, but finally they saw the Porter's Jeep and surprised him and unexpectedly shooting a burst of high-caliber projectiles at him. Porter reacted so fast and bold as he always had done and quickly took one of the guns and shot to the extremists without doubting, while protecting himself into the Jeep. Porter managed to slay several of them and decided to start to increase the speed of the jeep but another burst of bullets was fired suddenly against him and although Porter tried to cover behind shrinking inside the Jeep a bullet reached to touch his left side of his torso. The immediate sensation that he had by that bullet that struck him, was an intense heat feeling that soon became in an acute pain. Soon he realized that too many splinters were embedded in his back and arms. But he was perfectly trained to put aside the pain, the most important thing was to keep accelerating the vehicle and protect his life to return to attack them at every opportunity, to remove as possible all his enemies. As he had always said, the guy with the bigger weapon and best skills is the one who always wins. He must win.

He drove the Jeep more quickly and finally to his fortune Porter could reach a rocky area where he had time to stop and hide. He thought then that he had finally made them lose the track.

He stopped a moment to sigh and groan a bit for pain caused by his wounds, by bringing his hands to the wounds he realized that his fingers came out completely covered in blood, was losing much. Inside the Jeep had fortunately managed to reach some cloths and immediately did a couple of makeshift tourniquets. The pain was increasing gradually and feared the loss of blood made feel him dizzy and it also could make him to faint at any time, now being wounded made him have a enormous disadvantage. The damn camp was near but too far at the same time. Luckily the arid desert was ending, the sand now seemed to be replaced by rocks of enormous size which helped him better hide from his enemies. Surely there were still enough of those bastards alive and were probably hidden in anywhere, maybe they were stalking him and heavily armed, too many men for a single man like him but Porter never gave up, nor even for all that horde of trained terrorists, with all their ideology disguised as orthodoxy, dangerously armed and above all if they were unharmed. Porter was not determined to die in the desert of Afghanistan and much less in the hands of those fools.

He strove again to restart the Jeep, but this time it was more difficult, and returned to run the road. Perhaps he still had about 50 minutes to reach the area where he could find the camp and constructions of Saxon style engineering in city of Lashkar Gah.

Walking the path suddenly he realized like a rim of the vehicle had been damaged and immediately this made the speed of the Jeep decreased. In a moment the rim was useless. Porter immediately knew that this had been caused by a projectile impact. The Taliban were hot on his heels again, firing missiles at him, relentless.

"Shit! These damn imbeciles never end" cursed while hitting the steering wheel of the vehicle on a temporary outburst. He was too upset, angry and terribly sore. But he had no time even to stop for a second to think about all what was bothering him. He could only curse everything for a moment and think about how fast would have to out of that situation and get away from the terrorists.

They soon returned to shoot a hail of bullets at him but Porter could be skillful enough to sneak out of the Jeep. He took a couple of machine guns and despite the pain that afflicted him, left the Jeep and hid between some concave stones that resembled small caves. The damn Jeep now no longer served and he had to move on foot, wounded and weakened, dehydrated and filled with rage toward those damn extremists. They all were crap, all of them could go to hell. Porter continued cursing everything. Still he was losing blood.

To lose sight of him they stopped to fire the projectiles and then the men of Zahir Sharq approached promptly to the Jeep which now was abandoned and unusable. The Jeep was completely full of holes caused by the burst of bullets. They discovered that Porter was not there, Porter was hidden behind rocks and when the men neglected Porter shot them mercilessly from his location, killing them in the act, without giving them time even to notice that he had stalked them from the high. He had mocked them. Porter's face was not lost a fleeting smile sadistic of satisfaction. He was really tired of all those stupid dogs of Zahir.

Before leaving his hiding place Porter looked cautiously if there were not more of them near to him, ready to shoot to him with their heavy weapons. When he saw that apparently had ended with everyone, Porter decided to come out of hiding in order to continue the journey on foot. But just as he turned again he heard a burst of gunfire suddenly. He felt like one of those bullets had reached him through the skin of his left arm. Porter could not avoid scream out in pain but skillfully he ducked to hide back into the rocks despite the pain of the impacts which were making him lose consciousness, but without knowing the ground where he was standing was loose and unstable and suddenly it broke off under his feet. Porter instantly felt like falling down by the ravine, ending in a narrow and short stream. Porter did not know at that time when he began to lose consciousness, perhaps the wounds and weakness made him faint before hitting the water. For a moment he thought that this could be his final, the bastards extremists had won, they probably would leave him die and take his corpse to the hands of Zahir, it was all what Porter could reach to think within his consciousness meanwhile his wounded body fell down by the ravine. Those bastards had beaten him. But before his mind lost completely Porter thought he heard the sound of a pair of helicopters approaching. Then he didn't know anymore.

… **.**

Porter gradually awakened in the middle of a commotion. His eyes opened slowly as they got used little by little to the sunlight. He immediately tried to guess what was what really had happened and where the hell he was now. His head was spinning, he felt terribly dizzy and his vision dimmed and it was still a little blurry. He was too weak and sore. At that time he only had saw the roof of the place, which seemed quite run down. Then he saw that the rest of the furnishings were not very clear because a thin curtain placed around the bed where he lay didn't let seeing well. He realized well it was early morning, he could recognize the morning sun through the window. He put a hand to his head by inertia and soon a sharp pain afflicted him in the abdomen. The pain prevented him to sit or even move, the same thing happened with his left arm. This had to be because of the bullets that had reached to hurt him. He soon realized that he was in a small but functional room and surely it was a makeshift hospital. It was finally in the British camp. He smiled to himself to know that he was safe and recovering. Although, he could not remember how he had made it out of that. He was somewhat incredulous at it.

"Oh, I see you've finally awakened!" suddenly said an unfamiliar voice but it was very nice for Porter despite the serious tone that person was using. The person entered the room and approached to him. Porter could not clarify his vision well but to hear the sweet tone of the voice and silhouette of that person could think he was a young male nurse, or maybe a doctor. The young doctor, with very blond hair, had a tablet with records in hand and moved closer to the bed of Porter with the intention to make a cursory review of his patient.

The blond pulled the curtain and using his stethoscope on the chest of Porter he began to hear the beating of his heart. Porter was still terribly ailing but when the blond came to make such a review could make out well in his white robe had written "Dr. Watson ". Watson continued examining him quite serious.

"You have been unconscious for a couple of days ago sir, it's necessary that I examine you and check if everything is alright" said Dr. Watson formally as he took off the stethoscope from his ears and immediately he wrote some notes on his tablet of records.

"Oh, really I was unconscious for two days? those bastards Taliban…" muttered Porter, speaking he found that his weakness was avoiding him even to utter the words well. He had to make a great effort to achieve it "well I have to say that I'm very happy to be alive" Porter tried to express laughable.

Watson looked at him closely for a few seconds and gave a brief smile. With just seeing Porter he found that he really was an extremely tenacious, courageous, determined, firm man and after admiring a little all that Watson came back to him to review the progress of healing of his wounds. He raised some bandages, first of the arm, to check that the wounds were healing well and at that time, in that closeness, Porter could better make out the face of Watson. His vision was still a little wrong but could realize that Watson was pretty focused and attentive in his work. Porter assumed he was a serious, reserved man and noticed that he was not a man too young, maybe Watson was the same age like him. Knowing the fact that in a person of that age could be a face with such serenity and subtlety and a sweet voice like his, it inevitably aroused some curiosity in him.

"It seems that your wounds are healing very well, Mr. Porter" said Watson and continued inspecting the wounds of Porter.

"Thank you very much for take care of me, Dr. Watson" said Porter gasped and smiled at him, a sign of his full appreciation. Watson looked at him and met his gently blue eyes between all those scratches on his face. Porter smiled again.

"You are still very weak, Mr. Porter. You should not over-exert yourself too much. Don't worry, now you're safe with us. And I must say that besides the gunshot wounds you received also suffered a broken right tibia and delicate bruises due you fell into the creek from where you were rescued. Luckily, though the impacts of the bullets struck you deeply, they not damaged any vital organs. And also you presented a seriously state of dehydration and wasting, surely due to a lack of food. We have supplied intravenous fluids and of course we have treated your wounds and injuries. You'll have to stay with the plaster on your leg for several weeks. In fact you came here looking terrible, you lost a lot of blood, but everything is progressing well. When you recover a little more you will be forwarded back to the UK, so don't worry" finished explaining Dr. Watson.

"It was you who treated me and provided me all this, Dr. Watson?" Porter asked with difficult voice but trying to sound sweet, and he would not stop smile at the nice doctor who had healed him and saved his life.

"Haha well, me and my two colleagues" Watson muttered timid.

"Anyway I appreciate it enormously Dr. Watson. You saved my life" Porter said, smiling even more, and tried to raise his arm in order to reach out and touch a bit the white robe of Watson.

"It is my duty to attend to war wounded, Mr. Porter" Watson said dryly, but could hardly he conceal that receive these type of acknowledgments of someone who wounded that he had treated pleased him greatly, especially in the case of a very attractive Sergeant like John Porter.

"I hope someday I can pay you, Dr. Watson" said Porter glad, without stop to watch the friendly face of Watson, who stood looking also at him from the foot of his bed.

"Well, I must inform to the staff that you Mr. Porter finally awakened. I'll be back in a while, okay? Please rest a little meanwhile" friendly Watson said.

Moreover at that time Zahir had already contacted Frank Arlington informing him that his mission to kill Porter had failed and that now he was safe in the British camp in Lashkar Gah and they should wait another moment to retake the ambush.

Arlington Frank was furious.

….

Porter returned to doze a little as expected, because of boredom and because he really was very weak. In nearly an hour Watson returned to the room this time with a tray in his hands, which contained a bowl of soup, a stew with beef and nuts and a glass of any fruit juice.

"Here's your food, Mr. Porter" Watson said trying to sound cheerful, though he did it only for his patients because he actually felt a little tired of being in that country and all this military activity out there.

Porter roused himself completely to see Watson approaching to him and was glad to see him again. He was delighted to be able to eat something finally. Porter tried to get up but the terrible pain of his body made him feel as if a thousand needles were nailed on the skin. It was a hellish pain. Porter winced due the pain and Watson placed the tray on the table for a moment for help him.

"Don't try to move too much Mr. Porter, your injuries are delicate and it's better to maintain the rigid position" Watson scolded him and tried to help. Porter smiled laughable.

"Yes, you're right Doctor, I must obey your orders, I'm sorry" Porter apologized and Watson helped him lie back on the bed carefully.

"For these cases only is sufficient to operate the bed to recline it up" said Watson and flipped a button and the bed tilted up slowly, leaving Porter in a position sitting up without moving. Watson retook the tray and placed it on the legs of Porter.

"Thank you very much Dr. Watson, you're my savior" Porter laughed and Watson took a spoon and then took a little of soup from the bowl to give to eat to Porter. Porter felt like a little child. The idea that the blond young doctor gave him eating like that amused him greatly.

"Well, I will help you to eat Mr. Porter" said Watson bringing the spoon to his mouth and Porter smiled cheerful. Watson almost could not help blush.

"Dr. Watson please, stop calling me Mr. Porter. My name is John, surely already you know" said Porter after trying the first spoonful of soup, Watson was about to approach him the second.

"Yes, I know, we also have all your data, I know well who you are... and ... let me say that I have great respect and admiration for you, for your heroics and how you had fight against all those terrorists" Watson said this time bypassing his gaze to hide his shyness.

"Then if you know please call me John, call me by my first name" Porter asked smiling.

"Mmh okay, I will do" said Watson and gave a brief sigh of conformity.

"And by the way Dr. Watson, what's your name? You have not been enough cordial with me to tell me what's your name. If I found out that you're Dr. Watson has been thanks to the name written on your robe" said Porter trying to intimidate him mischievously. Watson turned to him and smiled again.

"It is true, I have not introduced me with you properly, well my name is John, John Hamish Watson" he said with a wide smile on his serene face and then realized funny how Porter looked at him in amazement.

"So you call John! Like me, great! This is really a pleasure" Porter laughed at it, but not too much as he wanted because laughing made him suffer a terribly pain in his stomach.

"You can call me Dr. Watson" said the blond with fake authority, he was joking with him flirtatiously.

"Errr ... I think it will be funny this situation" Porter said smiling.

"Now please finish your meal Sergeant Porter, you don't want it cool" said Watson funny again and extended the spoon to the mouth of Porter, also liked to think that one man of war so attractive and tenacious as Porter was called like him, although he already knew before.

"okay John" said Porter and tested the tablespoon that Watson was giving him at that time.

 _ **FLASH BACK OFF**_

….

John Watson reawakened from a deep sleep that oppressed his chest. It was nearly 4:00 am, so marking the digital clock perched on his desk and his breathing would not diminish until after a few minutes later. Again he had been having all these recurring dreams that hurt his thoughts, all these events that he had to see and experience during the war that he had to witness, since that first time they had sent him to complete his medical practices the service of the British military in the lands of India, long time before he met John Porter in the desert of Afghanistan.

Damn dreams were becoming more recurring. Before since his last return to British soil, all that Watson had been dreaming were occasional images of war dissipated in his subconscious, dreams that just appeared sporadically, until everything all those dreams began to increase in frequency at intervals of two or three days. But now he had these nightmares every night. He thought then that maybe his mind insisted on hiding his pain of losing Porter, covering all his grieving and pain with those nightmares. Maybe it was better start meeting new people. But he had never been really good with it.

Nor had a good relationship with his family and he did not want to have it. He had too many conflicts with himself for having to endure the folly of his alcoholic sister.

Watson had opened his blog just one day before but had not written any word on it. That day he out from his drawer his laptop and turned on, with the purpose to start to type a first initial note. As he entered the blog was dubiously stopped before starting to type something, he really had no interest or desirous to write something. For a moment returned to his mind the memory of Porter and he thought it might be good to write a little about what they had lived together.

 _ **"I met him in the arid Afghan lands, just over a year ago. The staff of my department informed us that day suddenly reached a report from MI6 in London who asked for help by Sergeant John Porter and his fellow, the former soldier Hugh Collinson, in turn a dangerous mission at the time. According to the report Porter and his companion found escaping from a dangerous group of Taliban terrorists who had been infiltrating into the missile control systems. But it turned out that Sergeant John Porter had been the only survivor of that mission and he was lost in the desert, likely heading to our camp in Lashkar Gah. They immediately sent a couple of helicopters in his search and after an exhaustive search finally found his whereabouts. They had seen him fall down a ravine into a creek, probably due shot and he had been seriously wounded. In the place the bodies of several Taliban militants were also found. The staff responsible for that helped him out of the water and hastily took him to our medical base. Until then I had only seen him in the photograph that had shown us, but when he arrived on a stretcher allocated conducted by paramedics I saw him in person for the first time. Porter was unconscious at that moment and his face and body were covered with his own blood. I just did my job, I rushed to help him properly along with two of my medical colleagues and that was how we extracted the two bullets and shrapnel that struck him. When all the mishap had subsided and after finishing attending him in those surgeries I could finally make out his face, seemed calm. A strangely feeling made me appealing to assist him and watch his sleep that night and take care of him until he finally woke up. Until then I never thought how important would be Porter in my life thereafter until ..."**_

Watson hesitated again and then stopped. He did not know if he should admit that he was trying to restrict the feeling of anxiety and sorrow caused by the death of Porter or maybe it was because of his strict military training, because somehow in the academy had almost forced him to restrain his feelings. Watson felt depressed again, hated feeling somewhat depressed, he did not want that would deepen more and more with each passing day and made his life heavier. And then he decided to delete the text that he had written. He left his post in white again. Maybe another day finally could decide to write something, something that had nothing to do with John Porter.

The day after reawakening of his nightmares, Watson left his flat, perhaps in search of an employment, even with his crippled leg could well find a job even if it was small and modest. On the way while he was through the park a voice suddenly called him.

"Hey, John, John Watson" the man said. Watson turned and realized it was an old acquaintance.

"Stamford, Mike Stamford, we were at Barts together" pronounced the man as he extended his hand to greet the blond John.

"Yes, Mike, sorry, hello" said John Watson cordially, but without much effort.

"I heard you were abroad somewhere getting shot at. What happened?" Mike said. At that time a series of withering memories crossed the mind of John Watson. Sometimes he could not hide his dejection to it.

"Err…yes I got shot" Watson finally confessed. It had been done in the inhospitable Middle East.

After talking with his old friend for a while in which Watson made a huge effort to have a normal mood, Watson finally spoke about his modest military pension and he possibly could no longer afford to live in London for a long time. At that time Stamford suggested him to share one flat with someone and although Watson was completely incredulous and pessimistic about the idea he didn't imagine that same day a few hours later he would meet with who would be his new and important partner, Sherlock Holmes, in a very cool presentation.

"Mike, can I borrow your phone? Mike. There's not signal on mine" asked Sherlock who had just given him a brief look at Watson who had come along with Mike to that laboratory.

"Oh, sorry, it's in my coat" Stamford apologized to Sherlock.

"here, use mine" Watson suddenly suggested.

"Oh thank you" said Sherlock turning to him at last.

"Oh, he's an old friend of mine, John Watson" said Mike Stamford.

"Afghanistan or Iraq?" Sherlock suddenly asked to him, sidestepping the gaze again. John was completely intrigued by his inference.

After starting a little strange mutual agreement about sharing together a good apartment in central London and after that Sherlock was capable to explain how he had managed to guess about his stay in Afghanistan and inferring that Watson was a military doctor attending now a psychological therapy, Sherlock agreed coolly, as he usually did, they should cite the next day in the afternoon.

At that time Watson could not help laughing ironically, it seemed that Sherlock was being too cocky and was true he was really surprised because he had managed to guess the condition of that so rightly only through a superficial deduction, but John was not willing to endure such arrogance.

"is that it? We've just met and we're going to go and look at a flat? We don't know a thing about each other. I don't where we're meeting and I don't even know your name" said Watson serious and confusing and a little bit exasperated.

"I know enough, I know you're an Army doctor and you've been invalided home from Afghanistan now pensioner due the injury of your invalid leg..."

Sherlock turned to give a series of explanations, all completely accurate. Then he dared to leave the laboratory but first let him know his name.

"The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street."

That would be the beginning of a new life next to this new partner, Watson turned out very interested.

 _ **FLASH BACK ON**_

….

It was early in the morning and although the pain was still frightfully infernal Porter felt it gradually decreased. But besides that, now he felt a little excited. It had spent a week since he had reached the makeshift hospital taking for a while to Zahir Sharq and his men. That should worry him because surely as he could escape from there, they would return to look or worse attack the camp where he was now recovering. But strangely he did not feel too worried, maybe it was due to the presence of his new friend Dr. Watson, as he was under his care and attention. Porter really felt comforted by having someone such calm and sweet like him to assist him. Seeing and talking with Dr. John Watson somehow encouraged him, made him forget a little his cold condition of sergeant of the highest British forces, a rough and determined type, heavily trained to kill any enemy without hesitation.

"Good morning John" Watson said as he entered the room, smiling a sweet smile for his patient Porter "How do you feel today?"

Porter was very happy to see him. At that time it seemed that the melodious voice of Dr. John Watson was playing sweeter than usual. That captivated him even more.

Watson started making some notes in his tablet of records and then moved closer to the bed of Porter.

"I feel better today and I think I improved a little bit right now just to see you, Dr. Watson" Porter said smiling. Seeing Watson his pain stopped little.

"Oh, really? I know that makes me glad so much indeed" Watson muttered a bit shy, laughable, trying to concentrate on doing his notes on the tablet of records.

"Makes you happy that I mention the fact that I improvement just to see you, John?" Porter said even more intimidating. Watson laughed graciously intimidated.

"No, of course not, comforts me to see your improvement, actually" Watson admitted to Porter trying to not do noticing his embarrassment. Watson actually had liked that remark unleashed. But he would not admit it.

"At least you care about me, I can live happy with that and especially happy to see you whenever I need to take my medicine again" muttered Porter laughable. Watson smiled again but this time could not help laughing a little at that. He found it funny the way how Porter addressed him. But Watson not perceived that was a flirtation, or maybe he didn't want hitherto.

"Haha well, talking about medicines, right now it's your turn to take a capsule" said Watson and pulled out a small bottle with capsules of medicine from one of the pockets of his white robe, then took a glass half full with water and the reached it for Porter could take it. On the bed now Porter was leaning so was sitting upright.

Porter smiled and took the capsule but let Watson gave him to drink the glass.

"Thank you very much for your care, Dr. John" muttered Porter with seductive smile and his look with eyes like sapphires fixed at the blond doctor. Watson could not help this time greatly blushing.

 _ **FLASH BACK OFF**_

Watson reached his current flat, modest and small, cold and empty almost as much as himself. It had been a strangest day. That morning, so suddenly had to raise the question that he could not find someone with whom he could share an apartment, even would have been considered it ridiculous and in the twinkling of an eye he already had dated with a man somewhat cretin to meet the next day the new possible site that they would share.

Watson turned on his laptop in order to investigate a little about that strange man.

 _"Afghanistan or Iraq?"_ The words did not stop to resonate in the mind of John Watson. Then he remembered how it had been that first kiss he had with his late boyfriend, John Porter.

 _ **"It was that day, the camp was forcibly compelled the decision to change its location when suddenly I tasted his lips for the first time, in that subtle desired, longed kiss amid the field of Girishk in the province of Helmand. A sweet and exciting kiss, like an oasis in the desert... "**_

Watson again felt invaded by anxiety and melancholy. Thinking that he never more could kiss the lips of his beloved John Porter squeezed cruelly his soul. Watson finished writing his post on his blog but this time he not deleted it, he decided to save it better but only for strictly private use.

 _"I love you John Watson, I don't want this feeling I feel for you fades, never, as the sand touched by the wind in the desert…"_

That night, Watson had no the same recurring nightmares, this time his dreams became in placid memories of his beautiful romance lived with John Porter. Watson dreamed all night with him.

….

 **Final note:** Okay, I hope you have enjoyed even a little of this first chapter, you'll see in later chapters what really happened long ago before Watson returned to London and a few more things, especially hot situations hehe.

All your comments are very appreciated ;)

By the way, English is not my first language so I apologize if I made mistakes ^^


	2. Unattainable desires

Note: The two are called Johnny each other in mutually affection uwu 3

 _ **Chapter 2— Unattainable desires**_

Dr. Watson had finally spent a night without one of his recurring disturbing nightmares. These dreams were lucid and vivid. That night he had dreamed but this time he had dreamed of the beautiful moments that had passed beside John Porter, before he departed from the life forever. But in his dreams he had not thought about that fateful reality of his death, in his dreams the only thing he remembered was concerned was what they had lived together in their passionate relationship. In his dreams, Watson could even feel the warmth of the body of Porter against his and the taste of his lips testing his, in subtle and glorified kisses.

But the dream ended and Watson had to wake up suddenly, just at the time when he enjoyed most. Watson slowly got up and finally got out of bed after being totally awake. He followed the same morning routine that he used to have every day but this would probably be the last time he would have in that modest room. Later that he should keep his appointment with the strange -presumptuous- man who had suggested to him share a flat together in central London.

While Watson finished dressing and combing his hair in front of the mirror, he still was not entirely convinced of attending such a meeting, the idea certainly still seemed too sudden, but he realized that his money was finishing and then he thought that he could not afford to waste this opportunity. Perhaps he could not find another person to share a flat in a long time. So he should attend such an appointment with that Sherlock even if he did not like him so much.

But there were still several hours for time so the doctor Watson thought he still had free time, anyway did not have a job and was sentenced to use that annoying cane. He should take his time in some monotonous activity. But despite his eagerness to reconnect with Sherlock and despite his impatience increased with the passing of the minutes, that day he was strangely in good mood. His dreams about Porter of the last night had been sitting too well to him.

"Oh Johnny, I miss you so much" said Dr. Watson continually among his loneliness, in his small rented room that he was about to leave, sitting in a lonely and worn chair in the middle of the room, thinking that even the beautiful memories that he had of Porter could not reach to fill the void in his soul hurt.

He pondered a bit trying to remember as much as possible every part of the dreams he had had that night, continually smiled to himself for that but in a moment finally he decided should take his time on something. He rose from his chair, decided to close that cycle of life. He thought it was best to keep his few belongings in boxes because surely he should have to move from there soon.

He took the things out of his bookcase to begin to put his things in boxes. Among the pages of one of the books that he took, suddenly appeared out a photograph of him and John Porter. Watson shivered slightly and looked at it in astonishment; he was absorbed over a period. Although Porter was in his thoughts every day the truth was a long time ago he had not seen that picture. Seeing that picture brought back all his memories, in a burst of images going through his mind. In the picture it was appreciated one of the happiest moments that they shared together, the just moment when they had just returned to London together for the first time on British soil after a long stay in Afghanistan. Watson recalled that day they had agreed their engagement. Watson and Porter had been about to marry.

The photo in his shaking hands reminded him the proposition that Porter had done to him that day in the park. He smiled when he recalled what had been his response to it.

"That night was so wonderful, John" mused to himself. The night they celebrated their engagement had been full of unbridled passion, delicious sex between silk sheets. John Watson closed his eyes to remember that perfect night. He tried to vividly remember every detail, the hands of both mixed with their bare skin, seeking each other desperately. The body of his burly tan lover on his, the strong arms of a man of war seizing his warm body, melting with his skin, alienated by the carnal desire. Kisses, caresses and choppy breaths, the pleasant indescribable of feeling him inside him, gliding internally in a gradual swing, giving way to enter. It had been something too hot but not just as an act of lust but as an act of real love.

Held up the photography in his hands for a while longer, observed every detail of it but most of his attention was focused on the smirk that both outlined their faces in the image, both hugging each other, smiling for the camera and the hair of both slightly tousled a bit by the wind, and the beautiful sunset in the background behind them, a sunset that colored the sky in a lovely pink color. The nostalgia came over him at all. Those days were far in the distant past. Porter was no longer living.

 _ **FLASHBACK ON**_

John Porter had spent another night in the makeshift hospital of the British military base. Porter felt still pretty sore from all the wounds of his body that had not yet finished healing. In addition, he also still a little weak, the dehydration he suffered in previous days had made damage on him and the medicines that doctors supplied him caused him a terrible drowsiness. But his favorite Doctor was serving him with dedication, and Porter appreciated every moment beside him despite the ailment and torpor forced him to sleep most of the day. And in his mind he kept worrying about what Frank Arlington and Zahir could be planning at that time, because surely they continued his track in order to catch him and this time finally kill him. At any moment they would do it.

His concerns about that are plotted in his dreams and delusions, but he knew he could not do anything at that moment because he could not even get up from the bed and fend entirely for himself. However, Porter was willing to just wait a little longer to recover enough and escape from the hospital if that were necessary. With each passed day increased his exasperation.

But the presence of Dr. Watson contrasted his feelings of anger, replacing them with serenity. The doctor made him almost forget about it, made him feel too well. His smile and his figure calmed him and motivated him. Porter never stopped feeling captivated by the good presence of the blond doctor who had saved his life in his service.

"Good morning, Sergeant, how woke up today? Better?" Dr. Watson cordially asked to go into the room where Porter laid prostrate. Watson brought with him a table with notes as usually. Then approached the bed of Porter and did run the thin curtain around the bed.

"Hello, Doctor" Porter said with a big smile and tried to sit up quickly despite the pain of the side of his torso that ailed him. Porter could not help but winced a little at it and Watson noticed it and slightly furrowed brow.

"You have not fully recovered, Porter, please don't over strain yourself" said Dr. Watson seriously.

"Doctor John, I'm getting sick for not get out from this damn place" muttered Porter with a small wry laugh.

Watson left his table of notes on the small table to the side of the bed and approached more to Porter. He immediately put his stethoscope in his ears and listened briefly on his ribcage. Then he took off his stethoscope.

"Let me review how is going the progress of healing" Watson said, placing his hands on the bandaged chest of Porter. The warm touch of his skin was like a caress subtle. Porter noticed that he felt too much comforted by that contact. Then Dr. Watson began to touch carefully and thoroughly reviewed the injuries of his torso.

"Okay, as you say doctor" Porter said in whispering voice, could not help but outlined a seductive smile on his face and could not help but felt charmed by looking closely at the doctor who attended him. But Watson instead continued to do his job, he lifted the bandages to determine his healing and then looked up inevitably found himself faced with the face of Porter who still was captivated. Watson could not help but blushed at this, their faces had not been so close before. When Porter's blue eyes met with his, Porter smiled even more.

"It seems that everything is healing very well" the blond said timid, but trying to be formally.

"You're blushed" laughable Porter trying to intimidate him and then he could not resist more and posed one of his hands on the blonde hair of the doctor.

"No, of course not!" Watson replied laughable, shy and bypassing the look.

"Dr. Watson, you're so nice, you always seem so... gentle... I wonder what's your age" curious Porter said as he began to stroke the back of Watson gently.

"38 years old" mumbled the blond a little embarrassed, and although his face was apparently fixed in his task of reviewing the wounds, Porter realized that Watson smiled nervously.

"Really? It's the same age as I'm!" Porter said laughable, knowing that another coincidence surprised him greatly but he did not show too much excitement because the shyness and captivating serenity of Watson eclipsed him.

"Oh... so we have another coincidence!" Watson said turning at last to see to Porter's face, he could not help but smiled so much when he heard that.

"I am surprised that a man of your (our) age is so sweet and gentle" confessed Porter, all factions of Watson seemed curiously very tender.

"Haha Sergeant John Porter, please stop saying these things, shames me! I'm not anything like that!" laughable the blond snapped and then frowned slightly in protest, almost with a desire to denote irritation to counter the supposed sweetness to which Porter referred. But even with that look on his face, Porter thought that Watson looked adorable.

"You do not stop being so adorable even being angry" Porter said in whispering voice. Watson could feel the caress that Porter made on his back, touching with greater intent. He shuddered a little inwardly and a strange tingling invaded into his belly.

"No, no way, haha stop teasing me, dammit!" the blond joked protesting again.

"I'm not making fun, I'm telling the truth. I like you to be my doctor, I like to have met you, despite the circumstances and even though since then I have not left these four walls and also we have not known more of each other enough well" Porter said. Watson thought at the time that the voice what Porter was using became more seductive. Or were perhaps only his hallucinations, the stress of work product and that compliment that Porter had said to him.

"But soon you'll be out of here John. That's for sure!" Watson smiled again, "well, I must change your bandages today."

Dr. Watson took some new bands kit and after make new cures in the wounds of Porter covered them with the new bands with care and dedication.

"Thank you very much Dr. Watson" muttered Porter with an affable smile.

"No problem. By the way I think I must bring your breakfast in a while. I will go quickly, I will not take long, okay?" said the blond and this time he was who dared to touch repeatedly a little one arm of Porter, wanting to squeeze one bit his biceps.

A couple of days passed and the improvement of Porter was increasingly noticeable. Being a strong, trained man had helped him a lot to recover soon, surely his immune system was strengthened because of that. His wounds had not yet fully healed and sometimes he still felt sore but had finally been able to get out of bed and walk a little more on his own, without needing much help, but he still desired to have the help of the lovely blond doctor. But because this also, Watson had left to serve him a little due now he turned his attention to the new patients with more severe injuries.

That day Porter could finally get out from bed, although with some difficulty. The plaster on his leg prevented him from walking well and he had no a crutch or a cane for support but that did not stop him to leave his room after all those days of prostration. He had to hold on some of the walls to get to other places in the small modest hospital. His primary purpose was to walk out of the bedroom to go to look for the blond doctor. He found him in a small room, after several minutes of searching. There was Dr. John Watson standing in front of a shelf with essential medicines and medical equipment.

"Good morning, Dr. John" Porter said approaching behind the back of Dr. Watson who was a little distracted by reviewing some notes in his notebook. Porter moved closer to him and dared to whisper close to his ear. Watson could feel the warmth of his breath, talking softly.

"Oh good morning, John" Watson said a little surprised, leaving for a moment to attend his papers. He blushed a little more because Porter did not seem to want to stray too far from him and that certainly didn't bother to him "I can see you finally got out of bed" Watson muttered as he turned to face him.

"This morning you weren't to my room to give me my medicine, doctor" whispered Porter in claim but he did not denoted discomfort at any time. Watson got a little embarrassed and giggled. At that time Porter felt a great inner urge to take Watson by the waist and approach his body with his in an embrace.

"Sorry Sergeant Porter, but you've recovered enough and we have other patients to attend so I was assigned to attend them from now" explained Watson a little overlooked because Porter would not stop looking at him with contemplation and that increased his shame "forgive me, Porter" said the blond and at that moment Watson did not resist to play a bit with the half open shirt of Porter, but although he wanted to touch his chest his hands only moved hesitantly onto the fabric. Porter liked too much this act, inexplicably he considered it was very sexy and daring, especially because Watson was sidestepping the gaze shyly but then Watson finally looked up to see his face.

"I see, it's a shame..." Porter said in a voice softened as he looked into his eyes "I could hurt myself again just for that Dr. Watson had to assist me one more time" he joked.

"Oh, come on, you fool, don't say that! Okay, now please let me pass because I have to attend to another patient" said Watson a little more serious. Porter smirked at him and though he didn't want, stepped away from him and allowed pass.

Dr. Watson settled down a little his white robe and pick up his papers.

"I see you later, Sergeant" Watson said laconically.

"Doctor, now who will serve me then?" asked Porter, internally he felt intrigued, but Porter trying to sound quiet.

"Now a new doctor will attend you, but only will evaluate a bit your wounds, practically you are cured and may soon you'll be able to leave this place" said hesitantly Dr. Watson, then looked up at him again with a slight frown but trying to smile, it was an expression that Porter thought was irresistible.

Porter could not understand why the blond doctor attracted him so much, why he wanted to kiss him. He just wanted to squeeze him against his body. He liked the blond doctor who had saved his life, methodically speaking. Watson caused him a strange but huge sexual attraction, something that he had never felt before for anyone. It was a series of feelings and sensations difficult to explain even for a man as active sexual like him.

"I don't want that another doctor attend me, Doctor John" Porter said, now a little more serious.

"But that's not something we can discuss, and it already has been assigned" said Watson doubtful "it is not in my hands."

"Well, but I can keep seeing you?" Porter asked with intimidating, sexy voice. At that time one of Porter's hands reached to touch the hand of Watson, inviting him to join them in a handshake. Watson sensed that it was his purpose and let him shake his hand but to his surprise to the contact with it, Porter's hand was lacing his fingers with his slowly.

"O-oh, of course" replied the blonde blushed, feeling the hand of Porter laced with his. His hands remained so for a few seconds, a period that seemed for both a detainee moment in time, while their faces did not stop looking at each other with nervous smiles.

"Besides, I still need to remove all these bandages and I want you to be there when I finally can take off this bloody plaster from my leg" Porter said coyly. Watson paused before answering it, it was a strange situation that could not assimilate at all. And their hands do not seem to want to be separated.

"By the way, how's your leg?" the blond asked with a trembling voice.

"Well I think it would be better if I only had all your care, doctor" muttered Porter laughable.

"Haha, stop!" Watson laughed nervous again and finally released his hand away from Porter's. Watson's hands were sweaty; he wiped them with his robe and tried to show a strong face "you make me feel committed to you" Exclaimed.

After a short while both shared glances and a brief chat, Dr. Watson had to be required to help to attend a couple of new patients who had just arrived at the military base, seriously wounded. Porter could see a little of what the doctors were doing to assist them. Porter was greatly admired for all the dedication that Watson had for the performance of his work and even though he could not help to feel a little jealous about them, because they were being served by the blond doctor.

"Surely that was how Dr. John saw me for the first time, wounded and unconscious, what a way to know us" Porter said to himself.

Porter ran the curtain of his room that was connected to the area where they operated the wounded. The modest hospital was certainly not too big and Porter had to stay in his room while he finished recovering. Luckily no longer had to stay in bed all the time, drowsiness not waned him so much and he now was allowed to walk down the hall more freely, although the heavy plaster on his leg not allowed him much. Porter had to sit in that place most of the day but could converse a little with his roommates.

That afternoon went to his room a young doctor to attend Porter and the other patients. The doctor was a beautiful woman named Judy, a very attractive, sexy woman with a beautiful black hair straightening which was short. She dressed in his military uniform that he clung to the body under the white robe she wore over and above had a cap on his head.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen" said the new Doctor. After a quick look inside the room, the woman spotted the burly Porter. Her attention fell on him almost immediately. He seemed too attractive even with all these bandages around his torso and the plaster on his leg. All those present patients, there were four men who roamed about the same age as Porter, greeted her enthusiastically. Indeed that Doctor was very beautiful and Porter could not deny it. He noticed that the woman was the kind of women who had always courted and taken to bed. She could not look away from him, he was too manly. But Porter instead didn't show the same interest, which surprised even to himself.

The new Doctor approached to Porter first, with all the convenience and frivolity that he caused to her. Despite her vocation as a doctor, now she only had interest to approach him and seemed like if she tried to ignore the other patients.

The woman pulled her file and reviewed the names of patients.

"I'm your new doctor. My name's Judy. I'll be in their care during the remaining time of recovery. You must be Sergeant John Porter, I see that in fact you have had a very good recovery" said Doctor directing a flirty look and smirked at Porter. The sergeant smiled friendly but reserved, and shook his hand warmly when she did the same in an effort to greet him.

The doctor Judy attended to other patients, who could not stop to look at her with a lustful desire. But she already had fixed her attention on the manly Sergeant Porter. When the doctor Judy finished seeing patients and left the room she managed to encounter Porter again later. Almost at dusk John Porter left the room to go to the dining room to have dinner together with the other patients. John Porter had no crutches so it was hard to move towards the dining room or from any place with the injured leg, but he was a strong man and trained strictly and something like that did not stop him.

"I wonder if Dr. John is a little free now, but he didn't come to visit me during all afternoon. I hope find him in the dining room now" said Porter in his mind as he moved to the dining room holding a little against the wall. He was excited to see the blond doctor again.

While Porter was walking down the hall, Doctor Judy spotted him, because in fact she had been lurking waiting for Porter walked out from the room towards the dining room, she was fully willing to conquer him. The doctor Judy had noticed that Porter was an easy man to fall into the trap of a woman like her. She knew she was sly, flirty and very attractive. The doctor Judy did not hesitate to come to greet him again and then offer to accompany him to the dining room to help him.

…..

That afternoon Porter could not see Watson in the dining room, the blond doctor had not appeared there. Porter had to allow the doctor Judy to accompany him all the time in the dining room, approaching him on the pretext of watching a little more closely his healing. She did not stop talk to him with dared flirtation, Porter realized immediately what her real intention was but he still did not look interested on that. Then she couldn't resist starting to do body contact with him often touching his arms daring, but Porter remained elusive at all times. It was the first time he rejected a woman like her. But Porter tried to be kind with her at all times and pretend a little interest in knowing her. Porter told a little of his story and talked about the mission that had caused him to fall wounded near the military base.

"Dr. Watson is who has been attending me since then... well, it has had to change from now, as you know" Porter said when he was about to finish eating of his plate. Doctor Judy inevitably noticed the interest with which Porter was referring to speak about Doctor Watson.

"Oh yes, I know him well, he's a nice man, devoted to his patients who came here, though I think he's a bit serious and lonely. I think that he has never married" she said.

"Yes, he's lonely like me..." muttered Porter in response.

"Have you never been married either?" she asked with interest.

"I was, once. But now I'm alone, my ex-wife died recently but actually we lived separated for years" Porter said seriously. After pronounce that, Dr. Judy definitely thought that this was her chance. She was totally willing to sleep with Porter, because actually did not seem she had much interested in his story, she had not been interested to hear about his past and the incident that Porter had told her about what happened in Iraq seven years ago. She just had an exacerbated sexual desire. Then Doctor Judy put a hand on the hand of Porter boldly but Porter could not feel the same pleasant warmth he had experienced to interlace his hand with Watson's hand that morning in that game of touches.

When Porter ended his dinner he went to his room after saying goodbye to her politely. After a while, while Porter was inside his room, Dr. Judy entered in the bedroom with the pretext of examining his wounds. With complete boldness she approached him and began to caress his tanned skin. The woman was too beautiful and provocative for any man. Maybe no man could resist to her daring insinuations, but Porter could not feel attracted to her, not even a little.

"I have come to review your wounds" she said as she dared to touch around his whole torso, with the intention of bringing her hands to his chest. Porter laughed with satirical irony and also had to admit, with some annoyance.

"Have already changed the bandages this morning, did it the same Dr. John Watson" Porter said sarcastically.

"Oh but I'm sure there are many more things I can do for you" said she bolder.

At that time she was too close to his face, the neckline of her blouse left poke a part of her bust and suddenly the door of the room was opened. The hinges of the door creaked to open. It was the blond Doctor Watson and couldn't avoid seeing the scene. Porter felt a strange excitement to see him again but Dr. Watson was remained a bit stunned under the door-frame. The scene bothered him much, he knew the attractive, sexy woman. Maybe it was a kind of jealousy he was feeling at that time, but could not admit even to himself. A little surprised Dr. Judy looked at Dr. Watson, but that did not stop the lustful expression on her face. Before uttering a word, Dr. Watson noticed that the hands of the doctor Judy were well perched on the torso of Sergeant Porter, and also noticed the position and proximity in which both were.

"Oh sorry, I did not know I was interrupting something" the blond apologized hesitant, but soon realized that the attitude of the _"couple"_ was not being adequate. The place had rules and that included not carrying out intimate acts.

"No problem, Dr. Watson" she said with sureness and boldness, without getting away not even a bit from Sergeant Porter.

"John, please wait, is not what it seems" said Porter and made an effort to escape from her, then he hated more than other days that the damn plaster on his leg prevented him having the desired mobility. The doctor Judy felt the immediate rejection of Porter and it greatly surprised her that Porter put all the attention on the doctor Watson rather than to ignore him. Porter approached Watson fast. From her angle, Judy could realize the expression of joy that Porter was outlining on his face when he saw the blond doctor nearby.

"Whether or not what I think, you both cannot have such behavior here. I'll have to tell it to superiors, sorry" said Watson noticeably uncomfortable and annoying. At that time Porter noticed that Watson wore a crutch in his hands "and I only came to bring this, Sergeant Porter. Excuse the delay, I was a little busy all afternoon and it took me a while to getting it" Dr. Watson said, this time facing him firmly, frowning slightly.

Porter smiled even more and moved a little closer to him.

"Oh thank you very much John, now I understand why you have not come to see me all this time" Porter said softly, moving closer to Watson.

"Mmh yes, well you know, I no longer have to attend you all the time. But anyway I think I better go out from here, so see you tomorrow Sergeant" said undecided the blond, the presence of Dr. Judy bothered him greatly and it provoked insecure to himself in a way.

"Oh John please don't go yet. You know I like to talk with you" said Porter seductive and stopped Watson by an arm.

The doctor Judy felt too much jealousies growing inside her mind because the proximity of Porter and Watson seemed strangely very close. But she was not determined to stop intimidating Porter to persuade him to sleep with her, but that had to wait a little longer. Anyway Porter could not be interested in Watson, she thought. Porter was not homosexual, she was secure of that.

"I retire, see you tomorrow Sergeant Porter, Dr. Watson" the woman said trying to use her voice tone more friendlily and smiled gently at them. The woman took his record table and left the room.

Being two alone in the room, Watson felt even more embarrassed because Porter was still holding his arm.

"Doctor, I know this will seem an abuse on my part because I know it is not your duty anymore and because surely at this moment you are very tired but...I need that you..." Porter spoke hesitantly.

"John...tell me what I can do for you?" Watson responded hesitant, felt the heat in his cheeks increased.

"Doctor Watson, I need help with the shower, you know, the annoying plaster..." provocative Porter said, in the vicinity of the face of the blond doctor. Just because of their differing heights prevented them to find their faces completely in front of each other, Porter had not kissed him yet. Porter just could to have his face over the blonde hair of Watson usually. If it were not for that, sure since days ago Porter would not have resisted to steal a kiss from Watson's lips. Kissing Dr. John Watson was something that Porter would have wanted to do impulsively almost from the moment they had met for first time. Dr. John Watson fascinated him too much, captivated him totally, and caused him to have an increasing sexual desire but also a huge interest in learning more about him. Porter had never before felt that by no other man but it did not care at all. John Watson was totally different.

Porter's face was on level of Watson's blond hair, but that did not stop the doctor could feel the breath of Porter anxious, anxious for his proximity. Watson hesitated before responding to such a proposition. Porter felt like an eternity passed before Watson answered. Watson then gave a short, nervous laugh, then felt that the sweat from his hands would cause the record table slipped to the ground.

"Oh well..." mumbled the blond, bypassing the gaze.

"Surely you can't assist me... isn't, doctor?" muttered Porter.

"Okay, I'll help you. Are we going now?" replied the blond finally looking up and meeting the bluish gaze of the strong sergeant. Porter smiled a lot, he thought at the time that Dr. blond looked too tender.

….

Watson helped a little to Sergeant Porter to get to the shower area, because of his difficulty to moving, though now it was easier to him walking with the crutch, Porter greatly enjoyed the opportunity to be assisted by Dr. Watson. Despite all the attention he had with him since his arrival, this was the first time that Watson attended to him to shower. The previous times other doctors had helped him to plunge into a bathtub, but finally this time the sergeant could get to take a bath under the shower.

Seeing Porter undressing himself until to be entirely naked caused inner furor to Dr. John Watson; help him to take off the bandages embarrassed him even more. Porter's body was too sexy and irresistible, muscular, manly, tan. But this Herculean body also was injured and full of scars and wounds that had not yet finished healing. Perhaps the bath still was going to hurt.

"You still have wounds" said the blond when Porter was completely naked in front of his eyes, noticing for the first time without could avoid, his well-endowed manhood.

"I know, you don't know how much it hurts, doctor" said Porter mumbling, trying to laugh nervously.

"I see you've received in the past other gunshot wounds" said the blond doctor as he touched one of the scars on the torso of Porter. The scar showed a wound not so deep made for a bullet that apparently had closed only a few months ago.

Porter smirked when Dr. Watson touched that part of his skin.

"That scar was from a bullet that hit me in Zimbabwe, a couple of months ago. At that time the cure was homemade, very painful and I think I was lucky, haha" said Porter.

"Well, the wound does not seem to have been very deep, but I think that gunshot wound could be cured quickly because you are a strong man ..." said the blond and then Watson thought it had sounded very bold. But Porter found it sweet and sensual.

"So you think?" asked the dark-haired sergeant curious.

"Yes, seems that you are a very strong, unyielding man, I'm surprised to realize all these scars you have over your body. I could not be like you" muttered the blond laughable wishing not to blush again.

"You don't have to be like me, you can save lives, like mine" whispered Sergeant in sensual tone, with the growing desire to take Dr. Watson in his arms and kissing his lips. Dr. Watson blushed at that comment. The water in the shower began to fall on the naked body of Porter. Porter was careful not to wet his plaster. Dr. Watson had previously helped him to cover it with a plastic sleeve.

Truly the contact with water and soap still caused him some burning in some parts of his injured skin. Porter could not help but winced at this, but Dr. Watson took every care not to hurt him. Besides, his presence was very comforting for Porter.

"You're so cautious, John" Porter said whispering and then splashed a little of water of the shower to the doctor. Watson laughed.

"Haha stop, sergeant!" protested the laughable blond trying to cover his face with his forearm, but that did not stop Porter continued splashed him. The romp continued for a while until the point where Porter had the audacity to attract Watson by the waist closer to him and which caused the blond wet even more with water of the shower.

"Take care, doctor!" Porter joked as he pulled the blond's body against his. Watson laughed embarrassed, he was in his arms under the running water in the shower and did not knowing how to act. But it did not displease him, a pleasant feeling tickled him in the stomach.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Watson snapped in protest. He felt terribly ashamed. Porter was very excited and though he wanted to avoid, his member was hardened a little and inevitably touched with it the crotch of the blond doctor. Watson could feel the rough rubbing on his wet clothes and that embarrassed him further, but Porter was still laughing funny, refusing to let him go.

After a while of playing Dr. Watson was finally able to get out of his arms. Internally the excitement he felt made him blush.

"Look what you've done! Now I'm all wet!" snapped the blond with nervous laughter as he took off his wet white robe.

When Porter finished showering, Watson handed him a towel to dry. Porter covered the lower part of his waist and Watson blushed again for it, he had had enough excitement for one day. Porter had covered his manhood again which before had been exposed in front the eyes of Dr. Watson and more than that, Porter's member had had contact with his thigh.

"Dr. John, please, tell me a little more about you. We have not had many opportunities to talk about us and believe me I really want to know more about who saved my life" said Porter, the male voice of the sergeant was always too sexy for Dr. John Watson.

The blond felt a little embarrassed at having to tell a little about him, but at the same time he felt trust to do it. He gave a brief sigh while Porter finished dressing. Thanks to the help of Watson, Porter could pull up his pants. During that time, Watson spoke a little of his past.

"So you studied in Oxford! It is so wonderful to meet someone as educated as you, Johnny" Porter said enthusiastically.

"Really? Well, but I had to do my service in India and well, after I ended up here. I have been almost for a half year here in Afghanistan" confessed the blond, looking a bit timid.

"I had only a military background, I could never go to college" muttered Porter as he finished adjusted his shirt as fast as he could, due his aching body. He winced again when he had to raise his arms to put on the shirt while Watson helped him.

"But that also it very admirable, because you have proved an outstanding sergeant, you're very brave Porter, I can't help but I'm admired by knowing you've taken many dangerous missions yourself" effusive and sincerely Watson exclaimed.

"Thank you very much, Dr. Watson, and thank you very much for helping me with the shower" muttered Porter in sensual tone. After that they finally left the area of showers and John Watson helped him reach his room. The clothing of Dr. Watson was remarkably wet and inadvertently slipped a little of water in the hallway.

"You see? It's your fault that now I'm leaving a mess everywhere" Watson said scolding, but certainly still felt ashamed and content for what Porter had dared to do in the shower.

"But you should admit that you liked" laughable Porter, said while they walked down the hallway. Watson felt intimidated but Porter was right.

Inside the room the blond also helped him to sit down on the bed, and it was late and Watson had had a very tiring day. Although he liked to be by the side of Sergeant Porter, what he really wanted now was go and sleep in his own bed.

"I think it's time for your medication, it is important that you take it for your wounds heal faster and to alleviate some of the pain" said Dr. Watson and soon hurried to the drawer to get there the medicine. Porter smiled reclining lying on his hospital bed.

"Haha, I thought you're no longer my doctor anymore" Porter said mockingly. Watson blushed but continued taking the capsules that would give to Porter at that time.

"Here it is, open your mouth" said the blond trying to sound strict and laughable Porter did what he said. After giving the capsule with analgesic, Watson handed him a glass of water.

"Thank you, Doctor Watson, no doubt thanks to all your care is that I am alive" Porter said.

"Haha well, I told you that besides being my duty is also something I like to do, especially for you" said Watson smiling, trembling and shy. Watson posed at that time one of his hands on one of the arms of Porter and the dark-haired instinctively touched his hand gently with his. Though they would not admit, neither of them wished that moment stopped.

That night, for a while longer they talked a little more about themselves, but not too much because they should not disturb the other patients with their conversations. Besides, Watson should go to his bedroom.

"There are so many things I've yet to hear from you, Johnny" curious and sincere Porter said, looking at the blond doctor sweetly "I think you're increasingly more interesting."

"I also want to know more about you... my friend" that last word caused in Porter an immense excitement, despite the true significance of that word. That night Porter concluded what really he felt, he admitted to himself what really was going through his mind and senses. He was falling in love with Dr. Watson.

….

Dr. Watson left the room to go to his. Watson was sleeping in an area with other of his fellow doctors in a small bedroom, specially allotted to them. Watson slept in a bunk bed below. His roommate was a friendly man; a doctor like him but more specialized in first aid. He was a man about thirty years old named Raymond. They had become good friends during this time.

"You've been talking a lot about that patient of yours" Raymond said as he prepared his bed to sleep "is the same sergeant with whom I have seen with you in recent days in the dining room?" asked the youngest doctor.

"Yes, it's the same. I've been attending him during the last two weeks, and his progress has been very favorable. He is a very prominent sergeant, from the high elite of British forces. In his last mission faced and fled alone from a highly dangerous terrorist group" said the blond. In his face he showed all his ecstasy and interest speaking about Porter.

"Sure that sergeant has caused great impact on you, dear John. I have not seen you so happy before" Raymond said glad.

"Haha well ...actually I am having a very good friendship with him" said the blond doctor. But Raymond had always sensed that Dr. John Watson had an almost definite homosexual inclination, but he had been always careful to not show it openly. Watson had never talked about it but Raymond believed that John Watson was gay and had difficulty accepting it openly. Raymond was pretty sure John Watson was falling in love with the attractive Sergeant John Porter.

"I am delighted to know that, John" sincere Raymond said. Though he felt a little worried about whether Watson would be equally reciprocated by the Sergeant Porter, because he appreciated Watson and he did not want he suffered a rejection especially for his fear of speaking about his own homosexuality.

That night John Watson slept with a smile on his face, recalling the moments that had passed that day with Porter, remembering especially the nakedness of his muscular body under the shower, squeezing his body against his.

John Porter also stopped thinking about what happened that night, could not take off of his mind the smile and figure of Dr. Watson that seemed almost heavenly, dressing with that white robe, wet with water of the shower and his hair as golden as the sun. Not stopped thinking about it always sounded melodious his voice and the touch of his skin at the touch of his hands. The medicine caused him drowsiness again. It was not long in being overcome by sleep. John Porter dreamed John Watson all night.

The next day John Watson awoke with good humor, his friend Raymond was the first to notice it. Watson went early to have breakfast with his colleagues and hurried to go to visit Sergeant Porter later. Arriving in his room he could see that Porter had risen recently and was having difficulty dressing.

Seeing Porter trying to put on his pants, Watson approached him determined to help him.

"Good morning, Sergeant!" Watson greeted and immediately helped him holding one end of the pants "let me help you!" he exclaimed.

Porter smiled friendly and happy, approached his face to Watson's face and almost had the desire to kiss him on the cheek, in the vicinity of the corner of his mouth, but he resisted.

"Oh Doctor Watson, thank you very much, you're very kind" said Porter and giggled "You don't know how much I was wanted you to come to visit me this morning. Although I thought it would not happen, because you know, you're not my doctor anymore" Porter joked with his characteristic tone seductive of voice.

"Haha don't say that, although I have not assigned to assist you anymore, I can still help you in other things that you need and you ask to me, therefore right now I am your doctor" Watson said.

"So you're my personal doctor then?" Porter said cheerful and did not contain more to caress the blond hair of the doctor.

"And I can be many times as you want" said the blond more bold.

When Watson finished helping Porter to dress, he gave him his medicine again. Until then, the Doctor Judy still had not come to perform her task because it was a little early yet. When the doctor Judy came into the room she found the two men conversing pleasantly. She could see they shared strong interest looks. John Watson was really starting to bother her.

When John Watson realized the presence of the doctor Judy, who stood at the door with apparent annoyance, the blond left the room to perform his true assignments.

"Oh sorry. I'll see you in the afternoon, John" Watson said, smiling.

"Okay Johnny, I'll be waiting for you" Porter replied with gallantry, which the doctor Judy didn't avoid to notice. She felt even more jealous of Dr. Watson but until then could not explain why.

The rest of the afternoon John Watson was devoted to his affairs, fortunately had not reached more wounded by war, but there were still several people with serious injuries.

In the afternoon Dr. John Watson returned to the room where Sergeant John Porter was, as promised, but before entering the room could be heard from behind the door that Porter was with the doctor Judy and they both were talking in soft whispers. Before opening the door completely John Watson hesitated to enter, the woman's voice sounded full of sensuality and with much provocation. He felt an oppressive feeling when he heard that Porter also answered to her in a whisper, though he could barely hear what he was saying. John Watson decided to peek just for a moment to spot them. The scene he witnessed struck him terribly. Although it was not what it seemed, John Watson thought he saw Porter really was flirting with Dr. Judy.

 _"I should guess"_ he sneered to himself and decided to leave the area, firmly. A lump seemed forming in his throat. But Dr. Watson did not move away too much far from there and could see when the doctor Judy left the room a few minutes later. When she settled a bit her hair and blouse, Watson suggested that his suspicions were correct: the doctor Judy and the wounded sergeant had affairs. The disappointment he felt then struck him more terribly. And more than that, he did not stop feeling totally stupid. But Watson continued in order to avoid entering the room of Porter, however he did not feel the desire to pretend he did not feel jealous about that, and neither was his duty to go to attend Porter anyway.

But without knowing it, John Porter had been waiting for him with great impatience. He continued waiting, the fair-haired doctor liked too much and although he had no explanation for why, he accepted outright. Actually, Porter had got up that morning with the whole purpose of starting to express his desire and love interest for him.

A while after the doctor Judy had gone, Sergeant Porter left his room. It was time for dinner. He still was intrigued by the absence of the blond doctor. Porter took his crutch and went to the dining room, he thought that if he was lucky maybe he could see him there. But to his surprise and to Watson, he ran into him almost immediately after he left the bedroom, Watson was in the hallway apparently thoughtful and elusive.

"Hey, Doc, what are you doing there so lonely? You abandoned me, I thought you'd come to my room early" said Porter very glad to see him, while held with his crutch to walk towards him.

Watson tried to feign indifference, almost with the hope that in this way Porter sensed his discomfort and jealousy. But Porter was more concentrated on admiring his face, even if with it denoted annoyance to him.

"Doctor?" Porter asked surprised and moved closer to Watson that was leaning against the wall, trying to avoid the look as much as possible but inside he felt gradually restless. But finally the blond doctor stopped to ignore him and decided to talk.

"Oh, hello sergeant! How are you?" the blond said dryly. Porter was even more surprised and his joyful expression was changed by an expression of concern.

"Johnny, something's wrong?" he asked, eager to clarify his doubts and with one hand raised the chin of the blond doctor for to turn around his face and look into his eyes, although Watson abruptly pulled away from it.

"Nothing happens, should not happen anything. It has been a normal day as usually, just I've been doing my job, you know" Watson snorted trembling. But Porter knew something strange was happening.

"Johnny, I thought you'd come to visit me in the afternoon, I was waiting for you all the time until now" muttered Porter seductive and dared to touch the cheek of the blond with the back of his hand.

"Hmmm really? Well, I thought you would not need me anymore. After all Dr. Judy now is who should attend your last wounds" said the blond trying to display his jealousies in that sentence.

"But we agreed that you are my designated personal doctor, is not it?" Persuasive Porter said. But every time Watson tried to avoid face him. At that moment the blond had the strong desire to shout what was the real reason why he was jealous and angry with him, but consciously knew that was not right. Anyway he and Porter were nothing, their relationship was nothing more than a relationship of a patient-doctor together in Afghanistan in a British settlement that served as a kind of hospital. And that could only become at most in a friendship, perhaps even a fleeting friendship. Watson thought of all modes Porter was not the kind of man who fixed his homosexual desires in men like him. He thought Porter had no sexual interest in fucking other men and less to him. John Watson was torturing himself with all that kind of negative thoughts that only denigrated his homosexual desire to have an affair with the manly Sergeant Porter. He felt insignificant.

"Yes, but maybe it's not really something that matters" said the blond a little more severe, trying to divert his attention to the table of records as usual brought in his hands.

"Please tell me, Dr. Watson, what's going on? Are you angry? Have I done something?" Porter questioned more concerned, he approached a little more to Watson to force him to look at him from the front, but Watson continued evading.

"No, actually I think I'm just a little stressed out. Well, I'll see you soon Porter, I need to deliver these records" said the blond bypassing the look, rough and then left the room, leaving Porter even more intrigued to know what it was that it was wrong.

"Wait, John!" Porter shouted when Dr. Watson had already advanced part of the corridor. Porter cursed above all that then damn crutches and plaster on his leg did not allowed him to run and reach the blond doctor quickly. Watson had the advantage of escaping of his view in a heartbeat "Dr. John Watson, please wait!" he shouted again.

Watson ran to his bedroom in the room where he slept. At that time all his fellow doctors were tending their activities so he was alone in the bedroom. Watson stood in a corner and leaned against the wall. He just wanted to stop a moment for let out some of the frustration that had been feeling since he had witnessed the scene between Porter and Dr. Judy a while ago. Although it had been a misunderstood scene, at that moment Watson fully believed that it had been real and clearly enough and thinking about it did nothing more than hurt his pride, his stubborn pride that prevented him accepting openly his own homosexual inclination.

But remembering that sexy, self-assured, so provocative, so daring woman really annoyed him. Remembering how she had been flirting with the strong sergeant, the way she approached him, the way she had left her room accommodating the hair and blouse caused him more jealousy, because he thought he could not compete against her, and nor had desire to do it. The woman had won.

 _"You're so damn stupid, John. It was obvious that he would not look at you, he looks like the kind of arrogant who sleeps with every woman that crosses his face, like her. He would not sleep with a man ... like me"_ he reproached himself internally.

The blond could not help but inquire into these devious thoughts all the time, he was being too hard on himself and would continue doing it alone. He wouldn't tell it to anyone, not even to his close good friend Raymond. He should continue with his normal life, anyway Porter would heal at last in a few days and after that, he would never see him again.

At that same corner, Dr. John Watson suffered his gloom for a while longer. In a moment he could not help sobbing a bit. But no one saw him.

John Porter for his part was immersed in the worry because he could not explain why Dr. Watson, who had captivated him, suddenly had had such an austere behavior towards him. Porter wanted to go out looking for him but it was a little late and he had no access to medical staff bedroom where Watson slept. But he was a man of war, and if not all terrorists had managed to stop him, something as trivial as that would not do. Porter left his bedroom looking for Watson. He had to hurry to get there before the rest of the medical staff began to enter their bedrooms. Porter sensed at all times that Watson had gone over there, could not have gone to anywhere else, anyway outside the atmosphere was hostile both day and night.

Porter walked as fast as he could down the corridor and came at last to those bedrooms, it was the first time he was in front of them. The majority of lights there were turned off so he should check room by room. It did not take long to find the corresponding room of Watson but to take a glance it seemed that there was nobody inside, there was no light on and no sound was heard. He was about to leave the place when suddenly he overheard a whimper, almost inaudible, accompanied by some heavy breathing. He knew immediately that was familiar. No doubt that was John Watson.

Without hesitation Porter opened the door and entered the room. He groped for the light switch and turned it on. The room lit up and then saw the blond doctor, standing against the wall of a corner but with his body crouching. Then, Watson turned astonished to see him.

"John!" Porter shouted while looking at Watson, certainly he looked terribly downcast. His face was afflicted and his eyes seemed red.

"Sergeant, what the hell are you doing here?" snapped the blond as a question, trying to partially hide his sobbing face and trying above all to maintain the integrity, to do as if nothing had happened. He was angered by the audacity of Porter for had gone to look for him and enter uninvited into his bedroom.

"I'm sorry John, I was very worried for you. I knew something bad was happening. I just followed my instincts and well, I came here" said Porter and began to approach to Watson, still stared at him. Watson denoted concern in that look. Porter saw the expression of anxiety in Watson. But Dr. Watson remained unchanged in the same place in the rigid corner with his arms in the vicinity of his own face as wanting to shield with them of the frustration expressed in his face, for Porter could not notice it.

Being right in front of him, Porter tried to touch his face, but he felt immediately rejecting of Watson.

"What happened?" Porter inquired, "Have I done something wrong? Please tell me!" he asked again.

At that time Watson had the strong desire to explain his true motives but figured it would sound too stupid on his part. He had not entitled to claim anything to Porter, and also he thought that even had no the right to treat him that way and although it was difficult for him would have to do as he did not care. At that time Watson tried to calm, gave a brief sigh, took off his arms from his face and got enough determination to look to Porter to face.

"I had a bad day, that's all. I told you!" Exclaimed severe the blond "No need to worry Porter. And ...very sorry for the behavior I had with you earlier. I should not have acted so stupid" said the blond with formality, dodged the look again and took another short sigh.

"I understand... oh, forgive me too, I think that was very bold of me to come here just to annoy you but…I really was worried" the dark-haired apologized, but the truth Porter had not believed in what Watson had said. Porter continued thinking that surely there was something really bad with Watson but would not inquire more about it for not to disturb him more.

"Every time I'm getting tired more of this place, you know?" muttered the blond doctor, frowning.

A brief awkward silence in the middle of the room, soon the fellows of Watson would come to sleep in their beds, the clock marked almost the hour.

Watson remained serious and ignoring, Porter did not stop looking at him with concern and suddenly did not resist anymore. Porter was carried by an impulse to hug Watson, wanting to comfort his concern, whatever it was. Watson, surprised by the act was allowed to wrap in his arms, still without utter a word. Porter squeezed him against his body, and though that made him suffer a little on his wounds, he did not complain about it. Embracing Dr. Watson in somehow rewarded those little feelings of electrifying acute pain. Having Dr. Watson in his arms always rewarded all. And with that warm embrace Watson felt protected, too long ago he did not feel the warmth of another body in that way and even it seemed that he had even forgotten the feeling. The embrace was too good.

"I know how hard it has been for you being here all this time, John" muttered Porter still holding him, with a little more gently.

Watson gave a sigh again, this time it was a sigh of satisfaction.

"But there is no remedy" the blond muttered, quietly.

"Remember that you can count on me" Porter said, wanting to kiss his blond hair, but he did not.

"thank you very much John" said Watson, in his smile anyone could have noticed his total enjoyment.

 _ **FLASHBACK OFF**_

Dr. John Watson recalled at the time that since then, despite the closeness that had begun to take him and Sergeant John Porter, they had also had to hide the true feelings that had developed each other. And also he recalled the hardships that had avoided him in some way consummate a relationship with Porter. But those adversities really were because of his fears, his pride and the misinterpretations. Or sometimes even because of the circumstances that separated them.

Watson looked at that picture for a while, remembering the first time he had gradually accepted that Porter had always shared the same feeling of love and desire for him. Dr. John Watson smiled at the picture.

After that, John Watson hurried to finish packing his few belongings.

After a while, he stopped thinking at last a little about his past with Sergeant John Porter. The appointment time was getting closer and realized that indeed the strange man named Sherlock Holmes aroused his curiosity. He had a growing interest in knowing him and being such a smart man certainly he was a highlight type. He could probably find some information about him.

John Watson decided turn on his laptop. In the search engine typed the name of Sherlock Holmes. He found some interesting facts about him and investigated about him a little.

After a while he left at the end the small room, took his cane and went to that place, 221B Baker Street in central London. As he came out of the house of the pointed address Watson knocked the door but before someone attend to his call and opened Sherlock Holmes arrived at the place and got out of the vehicle which had come.

"Hello!" said Sherlock addressing to greet John.

"Oh Mr. Holmes" said John in answer and extended his hand to greet him warmly.

"Sherlock, please" asked the dark-haired man.

Watson felt greatly admired by the facade of the place that undoubtedly seemed to be a place of great category.

"Well this is a prime spot, it must be very expensive" said the blond.

Sherlock then explained how he had got such a good price to rent a place so comfortable and usually expensive. He explained about the favor he had done a long ago to Mrs. Hudson, the landlady of the place and the debt exchange she had with him. They entered the house and Watson noticed that actually it was a very comfortable and well-furnished place, certainly much better than the small room where he was living until now.

"Oh, this could be very nice. It's a very nice place indeed" said John Watson as he looked around the living room.

"Yes, I think so, my thoughts precisely" said Sherlock in response.

"And what do you think, John? Upstairs there is also another bedroom, if you need two" Mrs. Hudson said. At this comment John Watson could not help feeling a little uncomfortable, it was the first time since John Porter died that someone asked him an insinuation of that kind, because it was clear that Mrs. Hudson had insinuated that he and Sherlock had a type of love relationship.

"Of course we need another room" snorted John to note his annoyance at such an observation.

After that John sat for a moment on the couch to relax a bit and then told to Sherlock that he had researched a little about him on internet.

"Something interesting?" Sherlock asked, with hands in his trouser pockets.

"I found your website, the science of deduction" said the blond.

And then in response Sherlock again made use of his great gifts of deduction.

Mrs. Hudson came from the hallway to ask Sherlock decide whether to take the case of a newspaper which announcing some suicides.

According to the newspaper, it was announced three suicides but then Sherlock ruled that it was actually four. At the time entered the home the agent Gregory Lestrade, inviting Sherlock to join him to research the fourth case.

Sherlock expressed his dissatisfaction to work alongside the coroner in charge of the case, Anderson and Gregory told him he needed an assistant.

Mrs. Hudson said about the effusive behavior that Sherlock had at that time because of the news to join the investigation of the four cases of suicides and again returned to infer that Sherlock and John Watson were dating, which eventually made more angry to the blond doctor.

Then Sherlock came from the corridor and guessed that the blond was a military doctor.

"Yes, I am" said John dryly although again felt greatly surprised by his deductive power so successful.

"Then you saw very hard things, injured, killed..." Sherlock said.

"Yes, many" said the blond.

"You've been in enough troubles, I bet..." Sherlock said "would you like to see one more?" suggested the dark-haired and then John Watson without hesitation nodded and followed him. Sherlock said aloud to Mrs. Hudson he would skip the tea and both would return late. Thus Dr. John Watson began the first day beside to his new partner.

….

 **Final note:** Okay I could finally update this chapter which was longer than it should xD I was about to cut a part but in the end I decided to leave it so better. Anyway I hope you enjoyed it and hope to update soon because things will get very intense :v

I apologize for all my mistakes, you know English is not my first language u.u

Thank you very much for all your kudos, they motivated me enough to continue ;)


	3. Separated paths

**Chapter 3—Separated paths**

... ..

It had been an exhausting day; it had been the first day of moving to live in 221B Baker Street and it had already been his first day solving cases with the prominent private detective Sherlock Holmes who just had just met the day before. John Watson had certainly enjoyed this strange new beginning of a new cycle expecting to improve the emptiness of his lifestyle since the death of Sergeant John Porter. Perhaps the words the same Holmes had told him a couple of hours ago were true, perhaps after all Watson did not fleeing war and instead he missed it because despite his passive personality he had always been attracted to the adventure because it was something that lacked and needed to feel complemented, being next to an audacious person who provided him of it. John Watson needed to be complemented by an antithesis of himself, needed someone who would not mind getting into danger... and John Porter had died.

Two hours had passed since they had returned to the newly acquired flat, the same as from now on would be his new home. Early morning John Watson would go to his former flat that had been rented for weeks to pick up his belongings and bring them to the new flat at 221B Baker Street. And although he would not admit it, he was greatly excited about it.

"I guess it's been really an exhaustive night for you, Dr. Watson, although that was what you really wanted, as I already mentioned, but I bet you'd almost unaccustomed to it," Sherlock said to the blond when and it was midnight.

Watson looked at him with some seriousness, but inside he felt embarrassed because he could not get used so quickly to his new roommate always sensed his true intentions and always had the audacity to tell him boldly, plus every time Sherlock guessed something John felt vulnerable to him, it was uncomfortable, but that was also something that intrigued him and appealed to him somehow like war and uncertain situations.

"Not exactly, but I admit that was quite exciting," said the blond in response, but a little laconic.

"I guess it's been exciting enough for you to realize that keep using that cane was something merely driven by a psychosomatic issue" Sherlock said while leaning over the back of the sofa where he was sat. The room was lit dimly, Mrs. Hudson had gone to sleep over an hour ago and both men were completely alone for the first time.

"Maybe, I guess, maybe there was a sudden improvement in my leg in recent days but I did not realize it," Watson said seriously and with a slight frown to denote rigidity "but I swear that makes just one week I really needed that cane for support. You cannot underestimate lightly a gunshot wound of war that has been shot in the leg, much less to reduce it as a simple sensation caused by the mind" concise Watson said.

Sherlock analyzed his expression for a moment although Dr. John Watson tried to sidestep the gaze for a brief moment as if he was searching the cane that now was lying against the wall.

"Afghanistan must have made you pass a terrible time; you should see many more deaths than you saw before leaving from England, death is something that physicians should be painfully accustomed anyway. But something tells me that what happened in Afghanistan was not something that has recently been just a few weeks ago, John" Sherlock said calmly.

John looked at him for a moment, the expression on his face turned slightly austere to hear him say that, he was a bit annoyed because again Sherlock insisted inquire about him and his past that Watson was determined to leave behind and then approached to the another sofa to sit as well.

"The truth is, it's not something that I want to speak about now Sherlock, no offense but it is something very personal," John said succinct.

"You're living a grief John, a major loss in your life. But this time I will respect your desire not to talk about it, especially because it is something recent. You lost more than stoicism and pride in war," Sherlock said.

John was more than uncomfortable upset due to the successful deduction of Sherlock, he had given him no sign of it yet but Sherlock had guessed again. For a moment John began to suspect that live beside with someone skilled as he would not allow him live in peace, especially because he being a military doctor had been raised to be more introverted than he had ever been because of the insecurity that his homosexual inclination still caused on him, but after all nothing had the same sense as before because nothing had remedy. He was alone.

"Yes, and especially because we just met yesterday. Doesn't matter what you say, you are still a damn stranger to me. And if you'll excuse me I'm going to sleep, good night Holmes" he said the blond and rose quickly from the couch to go into the room that from now on it would be his bedroom.

And while John was walking to the bedroom, Sherlock smiled wryly but the blond could not notice it.

"Good night, John" muttered the dark haired to hear the bedroom door slam when Watson closed it. Sherlock inferred that John Watson was upset about his deduction, but it was something that usually used to provoke in people. He was accustomed.

... ..

Being within which would be his new bedroom, John Watson took from his pocket the pistol he had brought from his previous home that was now about to leave and placed it in the drawer beside which would be his bed from now.

"Surely that cretin also deduced that I brought this weapon but maybe he forgot to comment about it, or maybe just did not have the opportunity," he said to himself, still a little upset, "I do not know, maybe his brainpower also include telepathic ability or some damn thing like that," he thought satiric and then sat on the edge of the bed and then removed the shoes he was wearing, he was really tired.

When he was stripped of his shoes, he chose to lie on the bed and stared at the ceiling while thought about everything what had happened that day. He thought about the case that they had managed to solve, he thought about what agent Donovan had told him of Sherlock a while ago after they finished to solve the case, _"he is the kind of men who are bored easy, because he is a sociopath."_ Maybe she was right, but despite all John Watson simply did not feel regret having made the decision to move in with him. And he also thought of everything Sherlock's brother had told him and how he had questioned. His life was giving too drastic a change in a very short time.

And then he remembered the real reason of his emptiness and sorrow, what really hurt his soul, Sherlock was right, his grief was recent, Sergeant John Porter, the man with whom he had shared wonderful moments of his life had died just a few weeks ago and it was also true that everything what had happened in Afghanistan had occurred only a few months ago.

... ..

 **FLASHBACK ON**

 **British Military Camp.**

 **Lashkar Gah, Afghanistan,**

 **Just over a year ago.**

"Good morning, Sergeant Porter" said the blond greeting the dark haired sergeant who still was a little convalescent in bed. Dr. John Watson outlined to him a big smile caused more by emotion that caused him seeing him, more kind than he should usually was with his patients recurrently. And remember the warm embrace that had occurred between each other the previous night in his bedroom almost made him blush. All night he had been unable to forget the pleasant sensation of being enveloped in his arms, and had not been able to stop impatient to see again Sergeant Porter early in the morning.

"Good morning Dr. John" Porter replied to his greeting, also returning an affable sincere smile. The smile of the sergeant was even bigger when the blond doctor approached him closer to the bed where at that time he was still lying, because though the improvement of Porter was considerable and he was allowed out of bed at that time it was still very early in the morning, outside the sun had not yet finished out.

"How have you woken up today?" he asked the doctor as any routine question, actually despite the feelings of excitement caused by the strong sergeant, Watson did not want to lose his professional ethics, his relationship with Porter remained only as doctor-patient after all.

"Much better doctor, I do not know what makes me feel better, to have you here saying me good morning from as early or not being able to forget the fact that yesterday I hugged you that way," said Porter without blurring the big smile on his face and still looking at the doctor with affection.

John Watson this time really could not help blushing, he did not imagine that for Porter it had also been too emotional that hug that they had given each other the night before when Porter offered him consolation.

"Porter, you are very affectionate" said the smiling blond nervous and walked to the end edge of the bed to sit beside him. At that time suddenly he felt one of Porter's hands on his back caressing a little and then going down slowly to his waist. Watson felt filled of inner emotion, an emotion that coursed through his body like an electric current. And Porter would not stop stare at him with rapturous, almost could not hide it.

"A man of war cannot be?" Porter asked with low and sensual voice, his gaze seemed increasingly intimidating for Watson and that almost distracted him enough not to notice at all that Porter's hand was stroking him with more intent.

"Well, the truth is that thanks to you I found out that a strong man of war can be," Watson muttered with a sincere smile affable, almost inexorably lost in the bluish eyes of the sergeant. Their bodies were getting closer and closer, Porter did not stop to caress his back with his hand and both seemed to get lost in the each other's look. Suddenly their faces were almost in the vicinity of a kiss, Porter looked so still dominant even with all those scratches that were still visible on his face. For Porter, Watson looked peaceful, almost heavenly. They both knew that almost could not avoid give in to their own impulses, but maybe it was still too early for this.

"But this war is what made me meet you, Doctor" muttered Porter in response and gently, with his still bruised hand, stroked a bit Watson's cheek with the back of it. The blond blushed even more, he sidestepped eyes and tried to sit back on the bed "Well John, by the way I thought you would not be my doctor assigned anymore, although it is really nice to have you as my own personal doctor in the middle of the desert" Porter said with voice softened and provocative, did not stop to stare at him.

"Err ... well, the truth is that ... I wanted to come here to see you from early..." said the blond doctor, internally embarrassed.

"Well, it's a surprise that this time has been too early, not yet dawn" Porter said smiling, admiring Watson's face in profile while the blond doctor again sidestepped the look.

"Ha that's true, it is very early, maybe I've been too reckless sergeant...I apologize" the blond muttered nervously.

"No, not at all doctor, your presence is never imprudent for me, quite the contrary, I feel privileged that you prefer to wake up early just to come here to see this simple patient even if you are not in charge here anymore," Porter whispered trying to approach gently to Watson's face little by little again, talking softly to somehow provoke him but also because he did not want to wake the other patients who were near his bed.

 _/oh please Porter stop talking to me like that, stop looking at me that way, everything in you causes me lots of excitement /_ John Watson said to himself in his mind, but his thoughts were so strong, exalted by his growing excitement that he almost feared that at any time they could out of his mouth.

"What's wrong, doctor? You have been silent too long," said Porter speaking with seduction in his voice. In fact he had noticed perfectly that his compliments made that the blond felt embarrassed more than he was before. Porter was perfectly aware of that because he had learned to read every expression of the blond doctor because Watson really aroused too much interest in him. The blond doctor just smiled nervously again, Porter was getting closer to him and now Watson dared not face him again. Watson smiled more, when he suddenly felt again how the sergeant caressed subtly his cheek with the back of his hand "I wonder what you have in mind, doctor," muttered Porter provocative, he almost had the urge to start nibbling the ear of the blond but he didn't because then Watson finally decided to leave his own trance and speak more clearly.

"Hmm ... sorry, maybe is that I have woken up very early and I also should sleep a little more but I had some sleepless last night" Watson excused himself with that quick explanation and continued "but...the truth is that ... I wanted come to thank you for what happened last night," said the blond, back fiddling irresolute and vacillating the fingers of his hand over the edge of the bed where he was sitting.

Porter gave a brief sigh before answering, and could not help but smile at him more, he always was fascinated looking closely the nervously of the blond.

"You mean the embrace we had in your room?" He said the dark-haired, smiling funny, looking at the blond with alienation.

"Yes, indeed...to do that comforted me greatly. I appreciate it and I thank you so much for your support and comfort. It was sudden but it could ease my emotional crisis. I've been quite some time here, always with the same routine, in this precarious situation in the desert in the midst of this relentless war, so far from home," Said Watson lowly and shy "I had not felt bodily contact with another person that way in a long time, I think I've also had to get used to loneliness, to pretend be stoic always though inside there are many things that frustrate me, so ...that embrace of last night was..." he explained the blond with more nervousness but in the end he could not finish to express his gratitude, perhaps because again he filled with shame or maybe because actually he was not too much used to express his feelings, he suddenly felt stupid because he had said it, but Porter inspired him safety.

"As I said last night, John, you have lived very hard situations here... besides I worried about you, I just want to help," said Porter, then suddenly came back to him, and hugged him in the same emotional way he had done the night before, despite his ribs they were hurting pretty again. Watson was surprised by the sudden act, but it was something he already was expected to happen and really he wanted to pass as soon as possible, because feeling back in the arms of that man made him feel full, something that even he could not properly express in words, Porter still could be a strange but somehow made him feel complimented.

But soon Watson felt greatly ashamed and moved away from Porter's arms and then took a tougher stance again.

"Well, it is true that here there are very hostile situations, all the time there is tension but nothing I've spent can be compared to what you have done John, you're so brave, you face the danger ahead, you face enemies highly dangerous, I really admire you..." said the blond staring determinedly, and then inadvertently he put one of his hands on Porter's arm and squeezed a little.

"Yes, strong enemies who want to kill me," Porter said between low giggles, feeling the hand of Watson that way excited him.

"Tell me a little more about that John, I'm not entirely sure how was this dangerous mission that brought you here and why exactly you end up falling into the ravine," he said the blond a little hesitant, but interested to know.

"Well, I was sent to this mission here in Afghanistan, in Helmand province with the aim of finding and ex leak to a British man named Gerard Baxter, an expert on missile launchers, who had been the cause of many deaths and who had fled from United Kingdom since 2005. I had to pretend to be a fake arms dealer to get it. When I found him he took me to the hideout of a Taliban bastard called Zahir Sharq who just was just using him for his own purposes. So the best thing for Baxter was escape, return to England and thus I ended up taking care of him but Zahir was not going to sit idly by, especially because Baxter knew many of his secrets that then he revealed all them to me. Then I learned the true instigators of all this crime, people who are currently in command of high political powers in the UK and the US. At the end the Taliban managed to catch up and they killed Baxter, before my eyes and I had to flee on my own. A former teammate, also a soldier of war, called Hugh Collinson came to Afghanistan to help me with this, but plus for pay off some bills with me, but that's a long story John, I will tell you later. Things ended badly for him, but I could run away in the jeep with the purpose of reaching the Iranian border but more than that to take refuge here in this British camp, but the bastards hit me and then shot me. I could kill several of them using a pair of machine guns, but then other bastards hit me and hurt me besides damaging my Jeep and make it unusable. After, I could hide in a cave, but when I came out of hiding a burst of bullets was dropped on me. At that moment I heard the helicopters approaching and the bullets stopped, but I was wounded and I fell down into the cliff and no longer knew more. Until...I vaguely heard your sweet voice John. You had saved my life," Porter said looking at him sweetly, gently stroking his cheek with his fingertips. Watson, who had been listening intently to Porter narrating all the events blushed to feel the subtle touch of his skin stroking his, and his pale blue gaze determinant transformed back into tenderness just for the sake of observing him, the doctor that had saved him.

"Oh John, you're so courageous. But I was not the only one who saved your life. At that time, I was not even going on one of those helicopters. In fact I must say that I avoid getting into them as much as possible, helicopters cause a lot of vertigo" muttered the embarrassed blond, still feeling the sweet look of Porter staring at him.

"But I remember your voice, and your silhouette... your blond hair lit by the reflection of light in the room where you all probably were healing me" Porter said with softened voice, again stroked his cheek.

"Well, it's true that once you came I rushed to assist you. You came very badly hurt, your whole body and face were full of scratches and your skin was dyed red almost entirely due to your multiple injuries. And I took care of you from that time until finally you woke up. I'm glad to have done a good job for you, Sergeant" Watson said, smiling for him.

"I thank you so much for taking such good care of me, Doctor Watson" said Porter outlining a more pronounced smile. Watson felt blushing again.

"Really I admire John, you just have to face all those damn terrorists. You are the most tenacious sergeant I ever met in person, and that's not adulation" Watson gave a short giggle.

"Thank you so much for all your compliments doctor, but better stop talking about me," Porter turned slightly stroking the shoulder of the blond "at least I can do my work outside, you should instead resist the routine of to be almost most of the time within this camp, witnessing traumatic wounds of the soldiers who come here, often on the verge of death, away from home as you mentioned. I miss home, in England, though my absence there does not compare to yours because you have been in the wilderness for a long time."

"Well that's true, but I guess I must endure life I chose. I always had in mind to be a military doctor," Watson explained, a little timid.

"You do not know how much I would love to be right now in London or anywhere in the UK to enjoy a good afternoon with you, doing various activities like anyone could do every day in a pleasant environment, away from war and the misery it leaves as a result, being happy in London...with someone like you," muttered Porter serene, with whispery voice and staring at him sweetly. Porter felt he couldn't hide his feelings for Doctor Watson anymore.

Meanwhile Doctor Watson had not really expected the sergeant told him that and it was hard to assimilate, was too good to hear someone like Porter could say him that, but that filled him with much emotion.

"That...would really be fantastic," said the blond after a nervous giggle, it was the first time someone said him something like that and before he could realize, Sergeant Porter took him back in his arms and hugged him effusively again without wincing, nor even slightly, due to the pain it caused him. The reward for embracing the blond always comforted him greatly.

"Let's do it when we get back to London, let's pass a good evening of fun together there John, a good day full of camaraderie just you and me," Porter said enthusiastic and Watson nodded as he smiled, still nervous but certainly eager to do so.

It was still too uncertain to know if that could happen soon though.

"Oh, of course! But hey Sergeant Porter, after this pleasant conversation I think you should rest a bit, it's still very early and there are patients who need to sleep and recover, like you," the blond said softly but directly.

"Haha don't worry Dr. Watson, a man of war must always be alert early on," Porter said with a suggestive whisper.

"There is no discussion in this case sergeant. Remember to follow the instructions of the doctor, and in this case the doctor's me. Also I have some other business to attend to. But I promise I'll see you soon later," the blond said with authority and for enormous surprise of Porter, Watson moved closer to him to lean his face and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek while was squeezing a little one of his biceps. Porter could feel the lips of Dr. Watson very close to the corner of his own, if it had not been for the annoying plaster that still prevented him from moving quickly he would certainly have tilted up to steal a kiss on the lips of the doctor who had also acted quickly to get away from him immediately after he had kissed his cheek.

"Okay doctor, as you say" Porter said coyly, still enjoying the sensation of that sudden timid kiss of Watson had caused on him. Meanwhile the blond doctor had rushed to sidestep the look, and had walked quickly towards the exit door without saying anything more, much less that he regretted having done something as unusual and daring as that kiss. Porter almost went crazy for it internally, Watson was daring, for Sergeant certainly also seemed that Watson had always intended to provoke him, and he succeeded.

"Well now I must go Sergeant Porter, besides I do think that no longer take to get the doctor in charge," said the blond doctor with authoritative voice again, but looking at him with more serene way. Porter thought his gaze was the sweetest.

"Doctor, could you at least inspect my wounds? Now I feel much better but they still hurt some, well and I cannot stand having to wear this annoying plaster" Porter said softly but feigning a bit a childish tone. Watson smiled. Then the blond Dr. obeyed his request and began to inspect the wounds superficially over the torso of the sergeant. Porter's shirt was open and Watson without avoid it gingerly touched his skin. Porter felt that as sensual caresses.

"I think you had a marked improvement John, but I would revise it better to know if the fracture has welded well to take off your plaster, but honestly I doubt it because the fall you had happened just a few days ago," said the doctor with more coquetry, still touching his well exercised and marking abdomen and suddenly he could feel the hand of Porter again caressing onto his back, stroking slowly throughout its length. The atmosphere was becoming increasingly strange, but too gentle for both.

"Anyway, I would like you to review the fracture now, Dr. Watson," Porter said seductively in his voice.

"mmh okay Sergeant, please extend your leg toward this side," he said the blond doctor's looking at him more flirtatious.

"I think I can handle that Dr. Watson, I mean I can review the fracture of the patient right now," said suddenly a strict feminine voice just behind the blond. It was the doctor Judy who was coming to the bed of Porter, on her face almost anyone could notice the displeasure she felt of having to find a scene like that one more time, she couldn't resist the closeness of the blond doctor and the manly Sergeant Porter. That really disturbed her and she filled with too much jealousies.

Listening to pronounce that, with a start, Dr. Watson got up immediately from the edge of the bed where he was sat. The presence of the doctor Jud always intimidated him, especially because truth was that she was now assigned to serve Porter and not him.

"Sorry, you are right doctor Judy" the blond excused himself quickly, avoiding the eyes and settled a little the white coat he wore. Inevitably he felt a little embarrassed for being caught again for her, next to Porter in the midst of their mutual flirtation. Porter sat up in bed and turned serious as he buttoned his shirt again that until then still had left exposed a little a part of his nude torso that was still bandaged, the same torso that the blond Dr. Watson had fondled just a few seconds ago.

"I wonder what you are doing here Dr. Watson, so early, the sun has not even appeared" she said a little severe, Watson felt more intimidated and tried to find a quick answer. He feared to do an awkward trying.

"Ahh well is that ..." whispered the blond before finishing the sentence, trying to clear his voice a little. The doctor Judy did not stop looking at him accusingly at all the time, even she would crossed arms if it were not because her hands were busy carrying some materials healing.

"This is not your area anymore, and plus there are many other patients who should be attended by you. Oh and again you were with the Sergeant Porter, that's quite strange..." she said a little satiric and then left the healing materials on a small table near. Watson was annoyed but also felt cornered, and his pride would not allow him to give false explanations to a person like her.

"Sorry but I have to say that I was who called Dr. Watson," said Porter suddenly serious and looked at her a little inflexible. This time it was she who felt intimidated and ashamed, but Watson felt more embarrassed internally.

"Fine but..." she stammered, Watson tried to sneak out quickly from the room because in addition to the embarrassing situation he did not want to unleash controversy or some kind of unnecessary discussion in the middle of the room where the rest of the patients were still asleep, but suddenly he was stopped by Porter who took him very gently by the arm. It was not necessary a sharp movement and be insistent for Watson obey him to stay a little longer with him, besides Porter was unable to be rough with him.

"Sergeant, I must go now, I do not want to cause troubles," muttered the blond to him, a little self-conscious, feeling Porter's hand stroking his back again, the big warm hand of the sergeant who always made him feel protected. Porter also kept looking at the doctor Judy with a slight frown, as with the intention of letting her know that her presence was not too pleasant for him especially after stopping once again his good company with Dr. Watson.

"Don't worry about it John, you're my friend and I like that you're here," Porter said this time turning to see the blond doctor who still was disconcerting for the situation.

"Yes, but anyway it is better that I go out now, I must attend to my own activities," said Dr. Watson in response, finally controlling his shyness.

"Well that's right. Okay, I'll see you later doctor" muttered Porter dedicating an affable smile just for him and then the blond headed for the exit of the room without saying a word and without turning to see the doctor Judy.

"Oh then was that sergeant, I did not know you and Dr. Watson are such good friends," she sarcastically said and stepped closer to the bed of the sergeant who saw her seriously, the truth was that Porter was really upset because she had come to disrupt the peaceful moment he was having with the blond that aroused too much interest in him.

"It's more than that doctor Judy, but hey don't you think it's wrong that a sergeant and his doctor have managed to get along well from the beginning," Porter said laconically, trying to get back to lie in bed and show no interest in her.

"Well that's true ..." she pronounced with sensuous intonation in her words "but now I'm your doctor, Sergeant..." to say that she posed rashly one of her hands over the torso of Porter, although he had already buttoned his shirt again.

"You don't need to repeat it," replied the sergeant brief, hoping that somehow it will be clear to her that not that in fact it was not quite nice for him.

She could not help feeling uneasy, but continued to make an inspection of the wounds of the sergeant on her own. For Porter the process was not as pleasurable as it had been when Dr. Watson had done the same just a few minutes with his wonderful hands.

…..

A couple of hours later, when all patients had eaten breakfast, Dr. Watson was walking in the hallway while he was reviewing some reports on the status of patients who were in the settlement. Suddenly he could feel the presence of someone close to him to realize that it was Dr. Judy who looked at him with disdain, and then she approached him while imposed her sneer.

"What's wrong, Doctor Judy? Can I help you?" asked the blond doctor, surprised by her attitude, because although the feeling of contempt was mutual he always knew how to separate his work from his personal affairs, Watson would never show his jealousy or something like that before his colleagues.

"Dr. Watson, I would like to have a quick chat with you," she said abruptly and certainly arrogant.

"Speak, please, is about patients? Or maybe about any order of the senior officer?" questioned the blond seriously as he turned to be right in front of her, she was taller than him. At that time Watson realized that the color of the lips of the woman was highlighted by some lipstick. That morning Judy was wearing a coral-colored lipstick, a faint but perceptible form to the naked eye, something unusual in that camp especially because they were in command of the militia in the middle of the desert. Watson simply could not explain why she had her lips colored, but he would not question it.

"No Dr. Watson, is something more personal," she said in response.

"Well, then I fear it's not the time or the right place to chat, doctor Judy. But if you wish we could have this talk in a while in a more suitable place," said the blond concise. She certainly felt exasperated at his indifferent response and slightly frowned.

"This is very brief indeed, Dr. Watson, I do not want to take too much time," she insisted, Watson was intimidated by the attitude that the conceited doctor was taking towards him.

"Okay ...be brief, please," said Watson formal.

"Dr. Watson, it's no secret that you are gay," she said directly, tactless. Watson fretted much more, but she seemed to be hurry to finish expressing what she wanted to say.

"Is this a sign of homophobia or something? I'm not saying that I'm, but I think your comment is irrelevant and it's disrespectfully the way you're expressing" Watson managed to say, also frowning by disgust.

"It's not about moral values, Dr. Watson; frankly I do not care if you say you are not, although it has always been an open secret. Everyone guess it. You're homosexual. You have a preference for men. But that is not what is beside the point, what I mean is don't you think I have not noticed the interest you have in Sergeant Porter" she exposed conceited.

Watson felt embarrassed by what the doctor was saying at the time, but he just wanted to think it was due to damn heat always felt in this very deserted country, especially since just before noon.

"It's not your business, Judy" said Watson annoyed "and if you will to take my time telling me that kind of nonsense I ask you please do not, because I will ignore you. And if you insist I'll have to report you with authority."

"Oh of course it's my business _Dr. Johnny_ " she uttered in a tone of righteous mockery when Watson had turned his back to leave the place "because the sergeant and I... already had sex, believe it or not. Porter and I we are lovers."

Listening to her say that, Watson could not help feeling internally petrified, even though much of his conscience told him that she was lying, it seemed even too absurd, like an immature childishness, but almost could not help hear her say him that will affect him. The blond paused for a moment and then turned to her slowly; she continued staring at him with great rigidity and crossed her arms.

"You are insane, in addition none of that is allowed here," the blond said, pursing more his expression.

"Please Doctor Johnny, do not be stupid. The sergeant Porter is a real macho; he would not have interest in another man and much less in such someone as squalid and foolish as you. I did not want to come to this, but seeing the way in which you have been trying to flirt him harassing him every chance you got, exasperated me to the point that I could not resist more to warn you to stay away from him. He's mine. Just look at the kind of woman I am with which you insist on competing. Please don't be ridiculous, you look so stupid doing that," she said with a cruel impudence and before Watson could answer, she turned to the other side and walked down the hall, then suddenly stopped and turned back to Watson for a moment "Oh by the way, I left a small sample of my love on his shirt. Surely the sergeant still should wear it on, a small sample of the fun he and I had a while ago" and after that she left, leaving Watson alone, without speak anymore. Watson knew that he should not to believe her, he knew he should not fall into the children's provocations of a damn woman like her, but somehow he almost could not help being invaded by intrigue. He felt almost petrified to imagine that everything was true.

…..

"Johnny, how good you came! I was getting bored a lot and especially missing your good company" Porter exclaimed when the blond Dr. Watson entered his bedroom shortly after 2pm. Porter was sat on a folding, old rigid chair at the time. He immediately took his crutch and hurried up to walk to Watson. If it were not for the damn plaster that always prevented him from moving more freely he would have pounced quickly toward him to take him into his arms and give a great show of his affection.

"Sergeant..." muttered the blond doctor very serious, without turning to see him too much, which greatly surprised to Porter.

"What's wrong? You're not very friendly as you were a while in the morning," said Porter and despite the seriousness of the blond he did not hold back to hug him briefly when he finally could reach him, but even so he could feel the elusive way in which Watson was acting. At that time Watson seemed unwilling to correspond to his embrace too.

"I'm sorry, I'm just concentrate with my work right now. It's been a strange day," the blond excused himself and moved away a little from Porter to put his attention on some drugs he had in his hand and had to be administered to some patients.

"That's fine, doctor, and what do I have your welcome visit then if it is not for chatting pleasantly?" He inquired Porter trying to sound sweeter to provoke him.

"Mmmh I came to check your broken bones, Sergeant Porter, I wanted to review them personally although it is not my task now I'm not assigned to this room anymore. Also a while ago I could not do it," muttered the blond a little crestfallen and told Porter to take a back seat. Again, Watson was avoiding as much as possible the look. The sergeant smiled wanly, the way the blond spoke also fascinated him, although it might not seem the same as always.

"Okay, Doctor" muttered Porter outlining a big smile on his face and sat for then raise his leg to Watson could revise it.

The doctor seemed to really focus on his work, he was more elusive and that intrigued more the sergeant, but he preferred better not question it and just enjoy the way the blond touched and inspected his broken leg.

"It seems that the fracture is healing well, though perhaps it would be better do a surgery to insert rods inside and strengthen the re solidification of the shinbone, but that I fear, will have to be when you can be back in London, Sergeant" he said the blond, still bypassing the look.

Porter could not understand why the blond was dealing with such circumspection, but dared not ask why.

"John ...is really everything all right?" Porter asked finally.

"Yes, I said that your leg is healing well," said the blond concise, looking at him just for a moment.

"No, I'm not talking about me but you, you are very rare," Porter said. Watson then rosed again the look but not to focus it on Porter's face but to look at the back of his shirt peeked behind his neck. He knew it was stupid to try to prove that what had said that annoying woman was not true, but he did not want to let doubt ant that disturbed him forever so Watson dared to raise a little the collar of Porter's shirt with his fingers and to take a quick look immediately he realized it was true that the cloth had clear traces of red lipstick. Seeing that, Watson felt dejected, especially because the fact check also hurt his pride. Watson could immediately infer that the color of the stain was the same tone that Dr. Judy was wearing strangely that morning on her lips, the damn woman was right after all and could boast about it.

But Watson did not say anything; he was a man of militia, a military doctor trained and accustomed to hide his emotions as a defense mechanism. Porter sensed immediately that something was wrong, but he could not guess why Watson had raised the collar of his shirt and why after that now he seemed even more upset.

"Well, I have to go Sergeant Porter, I'll see you later" Watson said hurried and rose from the seat immediately, then struggled to turn to see momentarily Porter to show a brief feigned smile to pretend that none of this affected him and then headed to the exit, to find a place to be alone, even if it were a damn corner where he could berate himself for being enough idiot to believe that what doctor Judy had boasted to say was a lie, because It was not. She had left a small but clear sign that Porter would accept her as a lover.

"Wait John!" Porter shouted to the blond. Awkwardly he reached his crutch and walked hurriedly as soon as he could to the exit but when managed to reach the hall he could not see Watson nearby.

…..

Shortly after 4 pm, all medical personnel was called to meet to hear the instructions of the commander of the camp was due to he had to be absence few days to be in Kabul and for to meeting with the military camp of the United States.

"Soldiers, I congratulate you once again for your great dedication to saving injuries and health that unfortunately our soldiers suffer in this inhospitable place," said the commander heading the camp medical staff that was gathered in a small room that served as office. Watson listened carefully to everything the commander told them and congratulated them, took little notice of the fact that Dr. Judy was also there and just next to it, though internally neither of them could feel comfortable being next to each other. But personal matters should be put aside while they were in fulfillment of their mission.

"I see that all patients have been having remarkable improvements" said the commander in chief to review the reports that soldiers in charge of the medical staff had just given him in the hands.

Doctor soldiers thanked him with respectful reverence.

"Doctor John Watson ..." spoke the man, giving him the look the blond who was right in front of him.

"Yes, tell me, sir," replied the blond firmly.

"Can you tell me please how the health condition of The Sergeant John Porter now is? Tell me about his improvement, it is really important," he questioned the commander, looking at Watson determinedly awaiting his response. In his hand had a table with reports that doctors just had given him about the Sergeant John Porter.

Watson internally felt uneasy about that, although it was the first time that something like that was happening to him. He knew he was nervous because of his interest he had in the sergeant, although it not was something wrong. Doctor Judy to hear the commander asking Watson those reports felt greatly jealous, but her professional ethics prevented her so impudent prove to everyone.

"Ah okay, his improvement has been progressively successful" Watson explained briefly.

"According to the report he has finally regained consciousness during my absence. So is he in good neurological condition?" He asked the commander.

"Yes, after several unconscious days he is now totally conscious again, although still quite convalescing from his physical wounds," he said Watson "his fractures actually require more sophisticated methods for full recovery but I think that what we have done for him has been good enough."

"Then I can go and talk to him," said the soldier in chief. Watson felt intimidated internally, he looked with some rigor. He knew he should control his nervousness.

"Of course. He is now fully conscious. Now his wounds are just physical, as I said, but not serious, only the fracture of his tibia and fibula is what prevents him from moving" Watson formally presented.

"Soldiers, I must speak with you," said the commander with a much more serious and authoritarian attitude, surely what was about to say was really important.

Doctors waited attentive to what the officer would say, with rectitude that they had learned to since their formation in military school.

"Sergeant John Porter is one of our most outstanding soldiers. A very important elite soldier of high special forces of the British army, as you know, and during his last mission he was involved in a highly secret alibi, hiding from a high control probably located in the same United Kingdom, that is we know that in London there is an accomplice with the extremist group that Porter has faced near the border in Iran. That's why the sergeant Porter should be sent back immediately to London, he is still in danger here and all of us also, especially now that he's badly hurt. We could be a direct target of this group of Taliban at any time, they want to kill Porter at all costs."

"Do you want me to help you in anything?" asked Dr. Watson.

"No, it will not be necessary doctor; you already have done enough to take care of him with special attention. I will who will report to Sergeant Porter about his return to London as soon as possible but it will be within a couple of days when the plane comes. Meanwhile I ask you all not comment on this. It's a secret that should be kept strictly hidden for the moment, remember that Porter is the true goal of this extremist group," said the commander. And after explaining some other points on the situation in the camp and their alliance with the US military camp, doctors they returned to their activities in order stealthy.

But thereafter, Dr. John Watson could not help feeling uneasy, he would have to be separated from Porter much earlier than he had expected. But it was the best.

…..

"Good afternoon Sergeant Porter" said the commander when he was entering the room where Porter and other patients rested to recover. Porter sat up in his bed as he could, even if he was much better still had difficulty moving freely. Porter showed a demeanor of seriousness and respect to the person who addressed him and that was the authority. Although Porter had not seen that officer before, seeing his uniform and the insignia he had on it, Porter could guess immediately that he was one of the top command managers of the camp.

"Yes sir, good afternoon. An honor to meet you," Porter said in response. The military maintained his serious stance and looked at Porter carefully.

"The honor is mine, Sergeant Porter. I want to actually offer my sincerest respects to you. You have been very tenacious and I admire know that you only managed to fight against all those men. I could not talk to you before because of your unconsciousness. After that, I have to leave this camp for a few days, but finally I can talk to you directly. "

Porter briefly smiled solemnly. He could not help lamenting the fact that Collinson and Baxter had died before his eyes.

"I appreciate your words, sir" sensible Porter said, "but I must tell you something very important. Collinson and Baxter died at the hands of the Taliban, so this cannot be called a successful mission. In addition to the end I was persecuted by the radical group" he explained. The commander had expected to hear this news of his own voice, because they had just managed to recover the remains of two men for a couple of days ago and they had sent them back with their families in England, but despite the shock of hearing him say of Porter's own voice, the commander did not flinch as any soldier.

"I'm sorry it had to end in such appalling consequences and the fact that we lost the soldier Collinson and our goal Baxter. But fortunately you are now safe in our base without serious injuries to regret" the man said "So do not worry sergeant, we have recovered the bodies of both. Now they must be coming to London with their families."

"So MI6 know what happened?" Porter asked.

"They are waiting to hear your own testimony, sergeant. Besides we cannot communicate something like that from here. That's important information that could leak out and benefit the enemy."

"Listen sir, we are in imminent danger. Zahir Sharq, the bastard is who is behind all this and his men are who have been chasing me. They want to kill me. I suspect thy guessed that my goal was to reach the border with Iran. They were not wrong. That was why just before reaching the base, which I must admit I did not know its exact location, I was attacked in an ambush by which I fell off a cliff and...then I did not know anything else. I think they believed I was dead, although due to my convalescence I could not be sure. I do not know if the damned are still looking for me. I do not know if they know I'm still alive..."

"Sergeant, you learned the secrets of Zahir Sharq ... probably that's why they want to neutralize you, they want to disappear you from the map. Baxter was totally linked to them."

"I know the secrets of that bastard Zahir Sharq and his disgusting connection with certain matters infiltrated in the United Kingdom and the United States," Porter said more quietly, in his eyes there was a lot of determination.

The commander took a slightly tougher stance and continued listening to what Porter was explaining him.

"That's why you should return to London as soon as possible sergeant. We cannot risk having you here too long, especially now that you're badly hurt and you cannot cope," said the commander "soon an airplane will come for you to take you there where you will recover from your wounds and MI6 will decide what to do then."

"Agree sir," muttered Porter considered but irresolute because he regretted the fact that sooner he would separate from the blond Dr. John Watson.

"Although I fear that it will not be until within a couple of days, Sergeant, when our plane comes back with cargo to re supply and with several new relay soldiers. Meanwhile you must stay here still, hidden from those damn extremists" explained serious commander. Porter inevitably felt excited to hear him say that, it gave him the chance to enjoy the company of Dr. Watson at least two days more.

"Yes sir."

…..

Near the 7pm the evening was at its peak point. Sundowns in the desert of Afghanistan used to be much hotter than the hottest summer in his native England, in addition to dye the sky a more vivid red.

Not be long until night would fall adorned with stars, when Dr. John Watson had finally been able to take a break after having to treat patients who have just arrived badly wounded to the military base. He had been terribly disruptive having to attend them urgently especially one who had unfortunately lost his legs to explode a bomb close. Those were the kinds of things that spoiled sleep for days and that definitely would mark his mind for posterity. But he had to endure and treat the wounded with total dedication, in his hands was saving their lives and make them feel that everything would be fine. But sometimes he really felt he could not take it anymore, Watson often wished fervently end this martyrdom and return to England away from the war zone.

"Oh finally I find you Dr. John" said Porter suddenly approaching to the doctor to see him sitting and thoughtful on a long bench in the middle of a corridor that connected the rooms of patients with clinics, it was reduced anyway space but always full of badly wounded soldiers and military doctors doing their duty.

"Sergeant John" Watson replied with a quiet voice, just turning to him. Porter noticed his restless hands linked together and immediately he felt worried about him. Besides, his bad appearance indicated that maybe just a while ago Watson had been performing his doctor functions hastily. Watson seemed really disrupted.

"Is something wrong? I heard you all were very busy just a while ago, I think there was a lot of movement around here while I must be in my room without doing anything," Porter said, lamenting again his injuries made him feel useless. The sergeant placed his crutch on one side of the bench and sat beside the blond. Watson remained immersed in his own dismay, but at the same time he was relieved to have Porter there with him to feel a little better, but he did not say.

"Yes, just a while ago we had to attend two war wounded soldiers of high rank, who came with limbs amputated due to a bomb that exploded very near them. The explosive was hidden in a car while they made a raid. One of them he suffered a... much more severe trauma and no matter how many times this kind of things happen before my eyes, I can never get used," said Watson, sidestepped and noticeably restless. Soon Watson felt one hand on Porter rest on his back to provide him some of emotional support.

"I know it is always hard no matter who is involved. I also have had to witness war and violent death caused by it before my eyes, but I've never been able to save their lives healing them, as you do Dr. Watson" muttered Porter with calm voice ant then he took the hands of Dr. Watson between his so to express that way his affection. Dr. Watson hands felt a bit rough, just a few minutes ago they yet had been stained with the blood of the serious wounds of the patients. Watson felt stupidly excited by the action of the sergeant, because he was in love with him and he always managed to make him feel safe and full of pleasant emotions but was aware that he must not fall into rapture in the midst of an austere and dramatic situation as the war.

His hands felt so good that way, warmly sheltered by the big hands of Sergeant Porter, his hands were now clean and enjoyed the feeling of that subtle emotional contact, hands that only a few minutes ago yet had been stained by the blood of traumatic wounds of a soldier and never again would be the same.

"Thank you very much for your support and your words, John" Watson said softly and looked at the sergeant with serene eyes.

"Have you already managed to control the situation, doctor? Patients can be recovered despite the tragedy that just suffered?" Porter asked worried, but looking at the blond doctor with sweetness that he could not hide.

"Yes, less than an hour ago we managed to control bleeding, heal the wounds as much as possible and they are now sedated but they really lost a lot of blood and it would be best that they be transferred as soon as possible to a real hospital," said the blond "now my colleagues continue to observe them, but I asked permission to take a short break."

"You need it John, do not beat yourself too much, you did everything you could, you gave your best effort," he said Porter calmly, and then he made Dr. Watson recline and put his head against his chest and then surround him with his arms.

"I know... but I can hardly help it, I always feel I could have done much more for them," he whispered the blond with a thin voice, almost could not resist show his dismay, and be well supported against the sergeant's strong chest. Porter comforted him greatly, and the friendliness of Porter made him feel protected but also vulnerable and fragile to his own emotions.

"But the worst is over, and soon everything will be over John" Porter said whispery and dared to kiss slightly the blond hair of the doctor just with a subtle touch of his lips, but Watson could feel perfectly and filled with emotion.

"Well, we have already asked that one of the military aircraft take them back to London with extreme urgency. In just a few hours it can get here and then they will recover in a hospital with the necessary equipment" he said Watson moving away from Porter's arms gradually, should maintain his stance serious and professional ethics in place despite how good it felt being that way with him.

"That sounds good," muttered Porter, a little ashamed because Watson again tried to maintain his seriousness.

"Yes, they will take the opportunity to also take other patients to finish recovering there. I think it's the best because also here we are almost full. It is even dramatic this situation," he said Watson seriously and then turned to see the Sergeant "I think it would be better that you also go with them back to London at once."

"Well John, the truth is ... the senior officer of this camp just told me that actually I have to get back to London as soon as possible, but he told me it would be within a couple of days," Porter said showing a little more solemn. Watson also looked at him seriously, first he had heard of the matter and knew he could not even try to show his dissatisfaction for to be away from him, because it was the best.

"I know. The commander himself told us today at noon. But now they have asked that the plane come sooner urgently, is better get back to London as soon as possible taking advantage that it have been sent for come. Here you are in much danger, also because we know the terrorists who attacked you still are seeking you. You are their main target and they will not hesitate to come for you. Also here you cannot carry out any mission and much less as you are now with all those wounds and that broken leg. In addition... just a few minutes ago the senior officer tell us that you will return as soon as possible on that plane" Watson muttered, and then dare to squeeze a little Porter's leg, the leg that was not hurt, but trying to smile a little. Porter felt internally excited to feel the hand of the blond doctor touching him that way.

"You're right, but ...actually I was excited because of the idea that I could stay here in the camp for at least two more days, just to be a little more with you," Porter said, bringing his hand gradually to the hand of the blond doctor who still clutched his leg a little. Watson smiled briefly shy.

"John, surely with this the senior officer will give you at any time the order to return as soon as possible to London. We have informed him that your improvement has been gradual and you had not been unconscious since some days ago, but as yet were convalescing and there was no hurry to send you he had not given the order you go back before but now with these unfortunate events that happened with these wounded who really need urgent help it has decided that it is an opportunity to take advantage of the plane to return" Watson said "in fact, I hesitated to tell you because I thought maybe the commander or doctor Judy should inform you first."

"I know this sounds stupid but...I would not want to return to London...without you, John," said Porter and took back gently Watson's hand between his as he stared at him to make him understand that he wanted to be at his side. Watson almost blushed, he was carried away by wonderful feeling of the hand of Porter again taking his, but soon remembered what Judy had said that Porter was her lover.

"And that...why?" Watson asked dryly, fearful, but dying of emotion internally. There was a huge duality in his feelings.

"Because I enjoy your company John, because I want to have placid experiences of peace to your side ...in London for the first time," he said whispery Porter, almost felt the urge to take the hand of Watson and raise it up to his face to kiss his fingers.

"I'm sorry, sergeant, but here there is no peace, there is a bloody war and I have been sent here to do a job. My mission here is to serve as a doctor, your mission here has been completed and you cannot commandant for yourself. Nor I can decide what I please. Your duty now it is to return to London, use the trip on the plane and recover completely there. Maybe later, sometime we can meet again" said the blond but dodging away, eluding a little the rough hands of the sergeant that were trying to contact with his.

At that time suddenly Watson felt the hands of Porter take his face and bring it to his, Watson felt his breath close to his, his blue eyes looking at him with seduction, subtle touch of his lips with the corner of his in a tender caress.

"Dr. John Watson" whispered Porter, barely touching his lips to the astonished physician who expected to happen once and that both had been craving since his relationship with the sergeant had become closer and closer, Watson was waiting for happened once, he was hoping the tremulous but burning lips of both join in a kiss, and he was enjoying the moment that seemed so eternal and ephemeral at the same time. But nothing happened suddenly, someone shouted a sudden desperate emergency call and Porter and Watson had to interrupt the moment.

"Quickly, soldiers! We have new wounded!" He shouted the voice of the commander in chief of the medical service, and Watson had hurried up quickly and ran down the hall to attend the call, leaving Porter anxious and frustrated, sat on the long bench. He even wanted to could do nothing but wait as a useless injured soldier sitting there with the bloody and heavy plaster placed around his broken leg. And suddenly the wounds and bruises suffered in his body came back to hurt like hell, he should take a strong painkiller for pain, the damn cold night in the desert always provoked it.

…..

Dr. Watson had to again face the difficult task of suture the enormous wounds had that been caused by explosives of war. Again, his hands were covered with the patients' blood gushing in spurts of seriously wounded skin that would never be the same. But the patients still had the fortune to be alive, but there was always the risk that their body will not resist and heavy blood loss will cause a shock result until death. Watson could not allow it, he would alienate the death of that place at any cost, he should heal them with the help of his colleagues to continue living.

With the help of other doctors service partners to help the war wounded, Watson managed to apply a convenient tourniquet to the patients to prevent bleeding continue to bleed them to death. But the material to cure completely in this inhospitable place was insufficient, they really needed to be immediately transferred to a real hospital since failure to do so would risk their wounds became infected and they became even necrosis. It was very bad to realize that the camp had had to receive several injured in this way in only one day. But the plane sent from London would arrive soon, they just wanted it did not delayed too much.

The patients were now sedated and out of immediate danger, Watson and his colleagues still felt the impact of caring for the wounded, as he had said could never get used to it and being in the desert in a war zone only disturbed them more . Watson finally sat for a moment, unbeknownst Porter had been in the hallway trying to investigate what happened inside the room that served as a sort of makeshift operating room. Porter had been there, he watch what he could find out if that were not enough because the view is obstructed behind curtains and because he could not interfere, he felt useless for being unable to help, the damn plaster will not even allowed to move freely, but he was worried about Watson at all times, rather than for the rest of the soldiers, he had to admit, because Dr. Watson aroused a growing interest in him in all respects, he had discovered. For Porter, Dr. Watson eclipsed everything else.

And while Watson finally rested a bit after the stressful time, he mused about what was going on. He tried to think more about the consternation caused by the injuries that in only one day he had to attend to, but inevitably his mind always was overshadowed by their own concerns. He tried to think about the impact of those horrible bloody wounds, he tried to concentrate on the plane would take to London back several soldiers who had survived the terror, but just could not concentrate because he always returned to his mind the fact that the same plane would take back to Porter included and especially he could not help but remember the annoying woman taunting him because of his homosexual interest in the sergeant.

"John ... you were very heroic, I really admire you more than I already did before," Porter said suddenly approaching the blond who to listen him to talk to him looked up to see him and smiled but without much encouragement, remained concerned and elusive by the situation, and remembering that damn woman had an interest in Porter.

"Thank you sergeant" Watson said certainly laconic, Porter sat beside him, left the crutch to the side of the bench and tried to be as close as possible to the doctor.

"I am glad that at least they are out of danger, although it is terrible that they have had to suffer such injuries," muttered Porter wisely, he could see that Watson was not in optimal mental state and could understand, he was always the doctor that tended the wounded. But Porter wanted to encourage him, approach him, make him feel the confidence to share his concerns, but he knew well he should have enough tact to do, but inside he really was dying of desire to start to woo him as already had planned for days. However, things with John Watson just seemed always difficult. This was the first time that Porter was with such difficulty wooing someone he liked, although he liked Watson in an odd way he simply could not explain. Watson always put a barrier between them, but Porter could not blame him, they were in a bloody war in the desert, in a camp where they could never be alone.

"Yes, soon the plane will arrive and they will improve in a real hospital. In a few hour everything will be much better for them. They will recover soon from their physical injuries, but I hope that the psychological wounds will not take too long," he said Watson tremulous, worried, taking some air to give a little sigh. He was not looking to Porter, it almost seemed he did not want to talk to him, but it was not that he didn't want to do but he had too many things on my mind. He just didn't know how he should feel about all this. Porter meanwhile also beginning to get used to his elusive attitude, but that did not detract in any way his interested in him.

"But they are lucky to be alive despite everything, and they're lucky thanks to you Dr. Watson" muttered Porter smiling affable, trying to cheer him up a bit. Watson almost looked pale at the moment.

"Thanks John, you're always so kind to me," Watson smiled for a moment "well, sergeant, sorry but it is almost bedtime and I'm really tired. Also I get some rest to be alert to this situation, the plane is going to arrive very early in the morning" Watson said apologetically.

"John...wait...I have to tell you something," muttered the sergeant a bit shy, Watson could always provoke that attitude in him. Porter stopped taking his hand, Watson felt nervous about it and stopped to hear him speak.

"What is it about?" he asked the blond quietly as Porter got up from the seat and stared at him sweetly. Porter moved a little closer to him, he would finally the right time to express directly that he had much interest in it, an emotional and sexual interest. Porter was determined, and he had to say him that before returning to London. Watson already guessed, but still was refused, the bloody evidence that Dr. Judy had left caused rejection of his own feelings, because if the Sergeant Porter really had an affair with her, it would be a mockery of his attempt to woo him. Watson was not about to let that would happen.

"John I think you are..." whispered hesitantly Porter, he could not remember when was the last time he had hesitated to express what he felt, perhaps that dated back to his teens.

"Please soldier, it's time to retire to their rooms. We are in the midst of a very dangerous situation and we must rise early," he said suddenly an authoritative voice, interrupting again the climax between the two men who were in love with each other.

"Yes sir" he said Porter obeying the request. Watson felt uneasy and nervous, hoping that nothing were misunderstood.

"I'll see you in the morning, sergeant before you and the others depart on the plane. Good night," said Watson serious and then headed down the narrow hallway to get to his bedroom.

"Sleep well, doctor," Porter said. Watson still managed to hear him.

"Sergeant Porter, please listen to me. The plane is going to arrive in about three hours but it will start back at 4 or 5 am. You must sleep now to be alert when we give the indication from" the official said and Porter nodded. Then the officer retired without further and Porter had to go back into the bedroom. Dr. Judy arrived at that time to assist him for the last time, and to take advantage of course the last moment that could have to be near him before he returned to London.

"Good evening, sergeant" she said with almost brazen flirtation and then she dared to caress a bit over the chest of Porter that was covered by his buttoned shirt.

"Good evening Dr. Judy" Porter greeted without much effort "I guess you already know that along with other soldiers I will depart very early," said the sergeant serious but looking at her a bit frowned.

"Yes, I know... it's a pity sergeant really, but...we still have enough time to have a fun time," she said with breathy and provocative voice. The doctor sat down beside him, at the edge of the bed while from her cleavage, which had exposed to unbutton slightly just a few seconds ago, she pulled a pair of condoms to show to Porter them disdainfully while licked her lips. Porter felt sickened by so bold and reckless attitude of the doctor and immediately rejected her. Although it was the first time he rejected such a sexual suggestion of a female. He always ended up sleeping with any attractive woman that insinuated him that way, especially with those who dared to take the initiative so reckless. But now everything was different, his interest was fixed totally in the blond Dr. Watson.

"Please keep that doctor, or I'll call the officer to suspend you for immorality and sexual harassment with a patient and superior in command. Remember I'm the first sergeant of elite of high British Special Forces, John Porter, and I will not to allow you to continue having that behavior with me just because I attract you sexually. Things do not work that way with me," said Porter rigid and frowning to show his dissatisfaction.

The doctor Judy felt really surprised by the reproach of the Sergeant Porter, and she felt frustrated because her feminine charms and seduction bold attempt had not worked with a man so strong and manly as the sergeant Porter who she liked too. She just could not believe he was rejecting her that way. Completely filled with shame, she got up back and stood to quickly buttoning her blouse and put condoms inside her pocket.

"I do not understand Sergeant, you have a terrible reputation as a womanizer, do not believe that is something that anyone does not know," she said, noticeably upset.

"It could be that simply I don't like you in the least, I just have no interest in you, and even I should do that your attitude bothers me because of your insistently" Porter said in response, strict in his eyes.

"Oh does that mean that now a faggot like Dr. John Hamish Watson may have more chance with you than me, a real woman?" she satiric said, mockingly.

Porter laughed scathingly but with sufficient caution to not be so loud.

"Haha, is not your business doctor. I do not want to be rude, just want to keep ethical and moral orders that everyone must follow, especially in a military center like this. Is it perhaps priority for you have some of sex with a soldier rather than see the situation precarious in which we all find ourselves? Have you even realized the current dramatic situation? Do you even care a little about it? Do not be selfish, your attitude is not right for a real soldier. Well, there is no more to discuss in this matter. I ask you please do not try to infer my business or affairs of the respectable Dr. John Watson who himself comes truly into his work. And please, let me sleep, I must wake up very early to go back to London, for the safety of the camp and throughout the United Kingdom."

"Goodnight Sergeant" she snapped irritated and left the place totally angry.

Porter decided not to pay more attention to the rudeness of that selfish frivolous woman and lay back on the cot that had served as a bed for the last days. The cold night in the desert was being austere as usual and Porter tried to shelter well with the threadbare blankets. Soon the plane would arrive, and then he could see John Watson again but at least tonight might have in his mind the fact that the blond doctor was still not far from it, in a nearby room, sleeping after a cruel day.

Before falling asleep, Porter wondered if Watson would also be thinking of him as he did, or if he was remembering the same way the moment they had been in the vicinity of a kiss. At least tonight Watson could be present in his dreams.

…..

At about 1 am, the transport plane/tanker multi A330 MRTT with configuration of 130 with stretchers and seating for 50 passengers arrived at the field that served as runway for landing the British camp. By that time only the night watching soldiers received the aircraft, which also came equipped with sufficient medical supplies and cargo as well as some weapons and other necessities. Inside the plane they came allocated several soldiers came from the UK who would relay the fallen soldiers and the wounded.

They had to hurry to download everything and to move with care to the most seriously injured inside the plane that was also internally equipped to do blood transfusions and connected to respirators. Dr. John Watson and his fellow medical team were awakened shortly before 3 am to begin the transfer of the wounded. Sergeant Porter and the other patients that would be transferred were awakened at 3:30. The plane was to leave at 4 am o'clock.

"Sergeant, please let me help you" said Dr. Watson suddenly when Porter struggled to walk on his own down the hall with the help of crutches. Porter smiled; he was extremely happy to hear the sweet voice of the blond doctor from early in the morning and was very happy also because Watson always had the full readiness to help.

"Thank you so much, doctor John" said Porter and allowed the blond help him. Porter smiled even more, he was very happy to see him, leaned a little on the shoulder of Dr. Watson, his short stature always fascinated him and at the same time admired his peaceful but determined face. Watson was not a soldier like him, strongly portly, Dr. Watson was certainly small and delicate. That morning Watson was not wearing his white coat, he wore his military medical uniform with a clear distinctive insignia of the Red Cross on the side of his sleeve. Despite his passivity, Watson was always willing to help and serve.

While Porter supported on Watson's shoulder, he couldn't resist to gently caressing a little over his waist. Watson felt blush, but that should not stop him. In addition, the time was too short, they had to hurry, and the plane could not wait any longer. The time together was running out but there was no turning back.

Amid the movement that all other soldiers were also made, Porter could reach the access of the aircraft with the help of Dr. Watson. They were together before the dismissal, but again they had been unable to be alone.

"Well Sergeant, it's time to leave. I wish you all have a good trip," muttered Dr. Watson watching the wounded sergeant with determination that hid his real anxiety, and his effusive desire to hug him, to tell him that in just a few days the sergeant Porter had become someone very special to him and he wish he could go with him to London. But he could not express his emotions that way, much less could do it in front of all the soldiers who rushed to do their duty.

Porter stared at him, he felt he must also avoid to show his effusive affection for the blond, was neither the time nor the right place to do even though but he was almost tempted to send everything to hell and take him in his still lacerated arms just in that place under the right wing of the aircraft, but he would not yield to his impulses by a mere product of his desire because he would not do anything to harm Watson. A soldier should always know maintain proper composure.

However, Porter did not contain to give him a farewell hug though his ribs still ached like a thousand knives stabbing.

Porter stared at the blond for a few seconds more, still outside was almost unbearable cold, lack of moisture in the desert always caused a climate such a contrast like that, and then he approached Watson and finally took him in his arms effusively.

"We shall meet soon, Dr. John, I promise" Porter said softly, whispering close to his ear. Watson was moved, the whispering voice of Porter always made him feel calm, being hugged by his strong arms made him feel protected, even if that only was momentarily. At that time two of the high command officers in charge of the mission to return to London had given the indication to everyone that the plane finally would take off in just a couple of minutes. John Porter and John Watson stopped to hug and looked back into each other's eyes for a moment, dedicating a mutual smile. Porter then held out a folded sheet of graph paper for Watson to take it. The irresolute blond took in his hand, the paper fluttered slightly due to wind generated by the engine of the plane that was about to takeoff.

"What is this?" Watson asked, looking up at the sergeant.

Porter smiled sweetly.

"It is my address in London, my number is also included. Please, if for some reason you come to London before I can learn, find me," Porter said smiling, he did not resist stroking a little the cheek of the blond with the back of his hand. Watson felt more excited.

"I will, do not worry" muttered the blond a little shy and kept the paper folded in his pocket.

"Anyway I promise I will return here as soon as possible to fight those damn bastards and then I will see you again," Porter said softly.

"Sergeant Porter please go up as soon as possible in, the plane is waiting. You're the last one. We are just waiting for you" said one of the officers a little strict.

"Come on John, and get better soon in London," said Watson.

"Take care John and please continue being as brave as you already are, never give up" said Porter and then climbed up inside the aircraft. The doors closed. The plane took off in some few minutes and Watson continued watching the flight until it disappeared into the clouds of the still night sky. He wouldn't see Porter in a while, but had to keep his own way.

 **FLASHBACK OFF**

…..

 _ **London, present.**_

 _ **221B Baker Street**_

The Sun had finished out, but Dr. John Watson felt more tired than usual. He had spent his first night at 221B Baker Street. The previous night had had many new emotions. It had been exciting, new, but tiring. And in his dreams memories for his dead lover, the tenacious Sergeant John Porter had done peacefully revive much of what they had lived together in the desert Afghanistan and the busy streets of London.

"Good morning John" Sherlock suddenly greeted, opening the door of the doctor's room boldly. Sherlock stood under the door frame while the settled a little the sleeves of his long trench coat while also looked how John Watson opened his eyes slowly, trying to quickly wake up completely. John immediately noticed the presence of Sherlock calling him from the door frame. Then he remembered he was in a new home, trying to have a new life. But Sherlock still looked a moron for him.

"Good morning..." the blond whispered a bit annoying, still rubbing his eyes. Watson suddenly felt how the morning light coming through the window hurt him. Sherlock had entered completely and had traveled the curtains that uncovered the buildings that were right in front of the house.

"Let's, John, it's time to go to breakfast. After that we will go to a building that has a cultural exhibition. It has been unleashed several strange things there, just this morning Lestrade gave me notice of it, although I already had noticed that since some few days before" Sherlock expressed. John Watson thought that besides the cretin always spoke quite rushed, or probably was that he should get used to the effusive emotion that kind of things always caused in Sherlock, get in hands on a strange case to resolve.

"Hey, but why the hell dare you come into my room like that? It's not polite of you. We're just roommates" strict Watson said when he had just managed to get out of bed. Sherlock looked at him funny and ironic.

"I'm sorry John, the emotion. Besides I cannot always find as good a partner as you. Yesterday you show me that your tenacity can be very useful to accompany me to resolve these cases. I know how much you enjoy being in exciting situations, even if you deny. No matter, that's understandable; a man trained for war should always be instructed to learn not to show too much his emotion. Anyway, the bath is ready for you to take a shower. In the meantime I'll be waiting in the living room, reviewing some things online. Surely, for this time they have already been unleashed new tracks" Sherlock said excited, but not looking at the blond who finished get up and kept yawning too.

"Okay, you win" the blond muttered after another yawn. Sherlock smiled sharply.

"Oh by the way, do not you try to hide it, John. I know you have a gun in the drawer. Could you even bring it to this mission, it could even be useful" said Sherlock and settled a little his blue scarf.

Watson again was appalled and disturbed by the judicious inference of Sherlock; very arrogant as always hit the mark.

"Have you been snooping in my stuff?" John asked a bit annoying.

"I didn't, I just realized since last night, it is easy to deduce that what you brought in your pocket had the weight and the exact shape of a gun of that caliber," said Sherlock and then without more word he left the room "I will wait for you then John, you have half an hour," said Sherlock and soon John Watson was under the shower.

…..

 **Note:** Oh finally I updated! xD sorry but I have had many other fics to write, as well some personal issues, college stuff and doing Richartin drawings that always require much of my time :v

Anyway I hope you enjoyed this chapter even a little ;) I apologize if I made mistakes, English is not my first language, I always try my best ;w;

This chapter was devilishly long XD is about the size of two normal chapters together, so I was considering a little split it in half but eventually I left it like this because things were better as I left at the end :v

The romance could not be consummated too much in this story yet, there is still tension in the plot but it is a matter of time to show some of the great passionate attraction to Porter and Watson feel for each other in the flashback :3

Thank you very much for all your kudos, comments and other signs of support owo

I hope to update much sooner this fic ;3


	4. Sexual fantasies

**Chapter 4** — **Sexual fantasies**

Sherlock and John went to that cultural exhibition to analyze the possible clues that the criminal had left on the scene.

That way they spent the days going to different places in the city in search of resolving the cases that arose. Each time they were always successful. Watson could not help but be astonished at the deductive abilities of his new roommate, Sherlock Holmes, always striking the truth of every situation and solving the crimes that usually the police would have taken days or even weeks.

Each of those days at his side had been tremendously exciting, but John Watson still could not get used to it, everything was still so strange to him since had returned to London a few weeks ago because had never conceived the idea of getting involved with such a way with so many crimes in the city. His life had undoubtedly taken a drastic turn, but of course he could no longer repent.

Contrary to what he had initially imagined, on the contrary his relationship with Sherlock Holmes was not being as he expected it to be. It was not as if Watson had expected they to become close friends, but Sherlock really was a little strange, unlike the others, as they had already warned him. Sherlock always guessed most of the features of his life, but they never discussed it more, because Sherlock was no more interested in inquiring into it, and because John Watson was reluctant to tell him about him, about his past, his likes, and other facts. In addition, Sherlock only endeavored to concentrate effusively and throughout the day on the new interesting cases that came to his hands, and for that reason, Watson considered several times if so much emotion for the crimes really made him a psychopath.

But in the end, he could not infer from it any more than he himself witnessed, for he was a medical surgeon and not a psychiatrist or psychiatrist specialist of the mind. Besides, he wanted to convince himself that nothing Sherlock was interested in; they were just roommates after all.

At least his life had not taken a bad turn because moving to live with the private detective Sherlock Holmes had benefited to him in obtaining a good place with rent accessible in the center of London and it provided company to him amid events that could in turn help him to distract himself from the things of the past that still overwhelmed him greatly.

Alongside Sherlock Holmes, in just a few days Dr. John Watson had really learned much more than he would have expected. His life had been so empty in recent weeks that he thought he had lived it all, especially when the man who had taught him to love had died violently and had not been able to say goodbye or give him a real funeral. It had all been too painful and even though he was still trying to stay stoic at the end of the day John Watson sometimes could not help shedding some tears and mourning his suffering caused by the sergeant's terrible loss.

Thanks to his new stay next to Sherlock Holmes, those moments of anxiety had diminished a little. Each night the blond was still depressed and fell in painful mourning caused by his recent mourning, although it seemed that little by little it did less. He wanted to believe that this was only because of his pride, because he did not really want to demonstrate his depression to the arrogant Sherlock Holmes, and feared that he could spy on him or enter his room without warning, as he had done before, and realize that had not long since he had a relationship with Sergeant Porter. In the end John Watson was just repressing his true feelings, inside he kept his pain. He did not want to tell him anything about John Porter, he did not trust Sherlock yet, and he did not want to share something that jealously was his own.

And in the same way, every night he watched the photos in which he appeared next to the brave sergeant John Porter, now dead, pictures of wonderful moments that both had happened together in Afghanistan and England, where they had made so many plans together, where they had consummate their passionate love.

…..

 **F-L-A-S-H B-A-C-K**

 **Spring 2010**

 **Lashka Gah, Afghanistan**

Hours after the British Army had arrived from London, along with Sergeant Porter and many more of his wounded comrades, Dr. John Watson and the rest of his companions had to continue their work in that camp on the banks of the arid land of Afghanistan, in the province of Helmand.

They had to unload all the resources and supplies they had brought in from the United Kingdom that morning, and that had been an arduous task under the inclement heat which increased with the passing hours. By the time noon had arrived, they had almost completely settled the new provisions, although the entire record had yet to be completed, as well as other matters already assigned. The scorching heat certainly made them wear out much faster but neither lost their concentration and their willingness to finish their tasks. Also thanks to this distraction, John Watson could clear his mind a little of the concern that caused him to know that at that time Sergeant Porter would be coming to London to recover completely from his wounds.

"Well, Dr. Watson, with your help, that's been enough for now. You'd better get the patients back, the other doctors need some help," one of his superiors said. Watson nodded and obeyed, however, the most seriously wounded had left inside the plane to London and now in the camp of Afghanistan only those who barely had a few scrapes remained, and who could rejoin the missions of the army soon.

"All right," Dr. Watson said succinctly, then made his way back to the area where the wounded were. When he arrived he saw that they had been well assisted by his colleagues, and he had only made a superficial inspection of his bandages. Everything seemed to be very good, and the place now looked much emptier because most of the wounded had gone back to England where they would recover in the real hospital, just like John Porter would.

….

 **London, England**

The British Army jet arrived at one of the exclusive airports for its landing in London with all its crew at the service of the militia. The vast majority were seriously injured, many of whom had even experienced discomfort during the journey from Afghanistan due to the seriousness of their injuries, which fortunately had been able to continue being helped by the military doctors who assisted them during those hours on the plane. John Porter had not had to suffer much for it, the wounds he had suffered days ago had managed to heal little by little since then and although they still hurt considerably and prevented him from moving too much at will, they were not unbearable so during the trip he only had to rest in his seat.

As soon as he had been able to see the British land from the window of the plane, the nostalgia had invaded him. He could not believe that once again he had been able to return alive and without too serious injuries to his homeland. He must be completely grateful for it. But he could not help but think that this time he had met someone who had made him feel a great thank-you and an inexplicable affection.

At dusk, the Sergeant John Porter and his companions were already in a good hospital after being taken care of.

"Mr. Porter, we must do at least a couple of operations for your wounds to heal completely. The sooner we do it, the better" said the doctor who had treated him while showing him an x-ray of his fractured bones. In addition the doctor explained the seriousness of his wounds "they are fractured bones in several parts, some are splintered, but they will heal correctly, they will be able to solidify completely after the surgeries. Fortunately your nerves did not suffer any greater damage," explained the doctor.

"I understand, Doctor, do the surgeries soon," Porter said firmly, he really wanted to recover soon because he wanted to be back on duty only to rejoin Dr. John Watson, and because he did not want to think about having to stay so long limited to not moving too. Either way, the recovery period would take several weeks.

"Mr. Porter, we will have to put an external fixation device around your leg, so that the bones can be firmly fixed. The period of bone healing, I fear, will last at least 120 days," the doctor explained.

Porter worried that waiting for his complete healing would take too long. Two months were going to be very long.

"I understand, Doctor," the sergeant said earnestly, internally struggling to resign himself.

"Well, then we will prepare everything so that tomorrow morning we start with the surgery. Meanwhile you will have to stay in this room. Rest a little, please" said the doctor and after explaining some more things, he left the room.

"So I'll have to wait long before I can go back to Afghanistan. I will not be able to see John Watson until then," Porter said to himself as he lay on the hospital bed. He sighed a little. In his mind he could not dissipate the memory of the blond doctor whom he had fallen in love with in the arid lands of Afghanistan only a few days ago. His fixation by the blond was already a resounding fact.

For that reason he now lamented more than ever that he had not taken advantage of the opportunities he had had to declare Dr. Watson his real feelings for him. It was true that the opportunities had been few, but they had existed and he had not decided to kiss him until that critical moment in the middle of the worst situation, when some soldiers had reached the camp severely wounded and their kiss had to be interrupted due to that.

He was now in London, far from where Dr. Watson was right now, probably assisting the new wounded who would arrive at the base at Lashka Gah.

Porter lamented that his beloved Dr. Watson had to continue to face those atrocities of the war while now he was comfortably back in the peace of his homeland.

It had not been long since the doctor had left the room when a couple of MI6 agents came in for whom John Porter had been working since he had returned to serve the militia.

"Good evening, Sergeant Porter," said the lieutenant, standing in front of him "I am glad to be able to see you again in the United Kingdom and with not too serious injuries," he finished saying, his gaze to the sergeant was respectful and dignified.

Porter leaned back a little on the bed, facing the two agents and greeted them with respect.

"Lieutenant, thank you. I'm complete, with some wounds, but quite fine I guess," Porter said, "I just need some surgeries to heal well." He finished saying.

"Sergeant, you carried out your mission with great heroism. We really admire your tenacity and above all your dexterity, for which we are completely grateful to you. We will honor you and you will have a generous reward, plus the government will cover your medical service. However, we know that not everything was successful, unfortunately we have lost the soldier Hugh Collinson and the civilian Gerard Baxter, who was the initial target, which is very unfortunate. The British Base in Afghanistan informed us all, but we do not yet have all the details for fear that information could leak through a hacker. Therefore we need to hear right now the testimony of your own voice, sergeant" asked the lieutenant seriously.

Porter looked at him earnestly and paused for a moment before speaking.

"Well, I am going to narrate everything with the pertinent details now," said the stoic sergeant and began to report the events that had occurred in Afghanistan from the moment he had passed himself off as an arms dealer in Helmand province, how he had reached Gerard Baxter, up until the time he had to face his old colleague Collinson because of the problem that had involved them in Iraq several years ago. He also told them how the Taliban had chased him through the desert, throwing a flurry of projectiles at him as he tried to reach the border with Pakistan. But above all, he told them every detail of what he had learned about Zahir Sharq and his connections with certain officials in the British government and in the United States.

"These are all the data I can give you based on my own testimony. I had collected some data in pen drivers but unfortunately I lost them when I was ambushed by those terrorist Taliban in the desert" said Porter finishing explain his story.

"I fear that Frank Arlington has fled the country, he did it a couple of weeks ago, he must have done so as soon as the ambush occurred near the border with Iran, but we will succeed in tracking and capturing him soon. Sergeant, we are very grateful that you have been able to give us all this information, we will immediately reinforce our espionage to find Zahir and the corrupt official who have told us," said the lieutenant.

"I'm sorry I could not let you know before that he was at the top of all this," said Sergeant Porter, lamenting a little.

"You do not have to feel guilty, Sergeant. You were indisposed, unconscious for days at the military base in Afghanistan, plus we could not communicate the complete information from there for fear of leaking, as we said."

"Well, you are right, but I still cannot help regretting the fact that two important people died in front of me in the middle of this situation," said the sergeant solemn.

"Meanwhile, I must warn you that you must change your address or at least your location because even though Arlington is at large, we do not know whether he will retaliate in it will not be long before he find out that you are back in London and try to attack your life. That is why you are not registered here with your real name, and everything is being done under strict secrecy," said the lieutenant.

"Does that mean... I will not be able to return to a new mission, can I not return to Afghanistan?" Porter said, although he did not admit it, he was really worried about it because that meant he could not carry out his plans to meet again in the arid Afghan desert with Dr. John Watson.

"I fear not, Sergeant. Your life is in danger from now on, and if you move in the midst of the war that has already been unleashed on those lands, it will make the lives of other soldiers who may be involved with you even more dangerous. Which they already do" said the lieutenant with great seriousness.

Porter was more dismayed internally, but he knew that he should not protest in any way to his superiors and he had to resign himself, even if he did not want to. Nor could he endanger his country and his comrades in Afghanistan, including Dr. John Watson.

When the visit was over and MI6 agents left Porter's room, he was left alone meditating on everything that had happened and how he would spend his days in the coming weeks, cloistered between four walls away from military activities and far of Dr. Watson.

The night had fallen, the night before he had not been able to sleep very well because of his uneasiness to return to London and the short time he had been given for it. Now he had to rest and wait for the morning to come and that the surgery that would be done to his fractures was carried out.

But before went to bed, the nurses had gone to assistance him. They had made a new inspection of his wounds and had brought him dinner, which had been considerably better than the ones he had eaten each day he had been at the military base in Afghanistan. However, he would have preferred to taste that dinner at Lashka Gah and not this one, because what made the dinners in Afghanistan better was Dr. Watson's company on each occasion.

He wondered what the blond doctor might be doing right now. Surely at that time Dr. Watson was already sleeping because in Afghanistan it must have been more than midnight.

He thought he might be able to communicate with him the next day, maybe after the surgery he could ask for a computer with an internet connection, he just hoped to run with the luck that at the military base they could let him communicate with John Watson.

Porter was worried that he knew the conditions in which John Watson and the rest of his companions must have been struggling in that strange land, something that contrasted completely with the comfort in which he was now. His hospital room was well equipped, completely clean and even with some gadgets for his entertainment, such as a TV that he had not yet decided to turn on.

After a while, John Porter finally decided to turn on the television, noticed that in fact he had not seen any program on TV since leaving London to his dangerous mission in Afghanistan, and that in turn made him think of the whole a time when John Watson and many of his military colleagues had not been able to enjoy something like that, because having it in their country had always been too common and trivial. But in the hostility of the war in Afghanistan things as trivial as that became great objects when they began to miss them. In the middle of the war there was no time for such entertainment, they were obliged to give up their opportunity costs altogether.

Porter began to change the channels of the TV, realized that the news was talking a lot about the situation that was happening in Afghanistan and other nearby countries and the British and American troops that were there. The sergeant wished that for some reason Dr. Watson would not have to be there just where the greatest danger lay and that there should be no further casualties from his companions or serious injuries that would permanently detract from their lives.

After a while watching television, seeing that there was not something else really relevant, the sergeant fell asleep. He had received no more visits than his superiors of MI6, there was no one to visit him anyway. His daughter was still in the rebellious foolishness of ignoring him and denying him as a father, his ex-wife had died and the rest of his family was in the north of England. Besides, no woman of all he had ever slept with had ever had a real interest in him, except if it was just the sexual one. For the first time he realized that he was really too lonely and that despite being a tough soldier at times like this he was longing for the company of someone at his side who understood him.

"If only you could be here with me, John," he said to himself as the television still remained on.

Soon he began to fall asleep, falling into a deep sleep. He was really tired and his body still needed a lot to recover. Although he felt a certain fear at the same time, he also wanted the next day to begin, in order to begin his true recovery after a real surgery.

…

 **Lashka Gah, Afghanistan. British military base**

In the military base that was established in Afghanistan, the activities of the military began from early as usual. The crew of doctors returned to assist the wounded of the war, luckily they did not have to assist to many and from the day before the tanker plane arrived and took to John Porter, they had not had to have no seriously injured.

However the wounded could always be better served in a real hospital in England.

John Watson had a short break between noon. It was as monotonous a day as any, he had been living that way every day for months, and although the days on the calendar were marked every morning, he always had the feeling of losing the notion of time, he had long believed he did not know in what a day he lived.

"I do hope John is fine, I hope they can fix well his fractures with surgery before it starts to solidify the bones," Watson said in the loneliness of a bench where he was sitting at a time when he looked again and again at the sheet of paper with the address in London that the segerant Porter himself had written and given him when he said goodbye before leaving on the militia plane. Watson smiled at that paper.

In addition to his home and mobile phone number, Porter had also provided his email address to contact him online. Watson felt a great desire to seek the immediate way, just for the simple fact that he missed him very much, even if only a few hours had passed since his departure.

But in the midst of belligerence it was difficult and restrictive for any soldier to be allowed to use the internet, because that might represent distractions that could cause unfavorable incidents. Opportunities to communicate were granted in an organized and restricted manner only on certain days and this day was not one of those days. Dr. Watson must wait for his opportunity to contact Sergeant Porter.

For a little while, John Watson continued to dig into his own thoughts, recalling the sublime moments he had had with Sergeant John Porter during his brief stay at the military base, he liked to remember every moment they had been able to spend together, from the moment they had spoken for the first time to those times when he had to help him to take a bath under the shower. But above all, Watson remembered John Porter's gaze fixed on his as he expressed with great affection his great admiration for him until their lips had been brushed subtly in the vicinity of an adventurous kiss that in the end had had to be abruptly interrupted.

And remembering that sudden moment, John Watson stroked his own lips with the fingers of his hand wishing that kiss had been consummated. It had been something he could not believe but that Sergeant Porter himself had driven to do. Perhaps, after all, the feelings he felt for John Porter were reciprocal, but now that they had had to forcibly separate, he could not be sure of it. And the moment when they could meet again was uncertain and distant.

Although the lapse of rest had been relatively brief, Watson had greatly enjoyed reminiscing about every moment spent with the man who had captivated his desire, complementing those memories with images produced by his fantasies. Surely having kissed the dark haired sergeant Porter would have been an act that would have filled him with great happiness.

While Watson was still immersed in his own imagination, sometimes he could not help watching his companions walk by, chatting among themselves. At one point he spotted Dr. Judy who had caused him frustration by jealousy over something he was not sure would have happened, John Watson could not be completely sure that Dr. Judy and Sergeant John Porter really had become lovers, despite such insubstantial tests as the mark of lipstick on Porter's shirt that time. He still wondered if it had been a fait accompli, but remembering that Sergeant Porter himself had been about to kiss him, made him doubt more in the interest of Porter in doctor Judy. He just wanted to believe that Sergeant John Porter's interest really was focused only on him and not on that detestable woman.

"Oh, Doctor Watson," Dr. Judy said when she finally came up to him, John Watson sat but looked up at her with respect "how good that I found you" she added, although Judy showed respect it was also clear that she almost could not hide the disdain she always had for her blond colleague.

"Tell me, Doctor Judy," Dr. John Watson said in response.

"They need your help in the crew," she said blandly.

"Okay, thanks for letting me know." Watson nodded briefly and laconically but politely as always and then rose from his seat.

When Watson rose from his seat, inadvertently, the notebook sheet that John Porter had given him fell from his pocket to the floor as he continued on to the other corridor without turning back. The doctor Judy immediately noticed that the paper had fallen to the floor and without hesitation she took it and quickly put it in her pocket. Dr. Judy moved quickly away, until now she did not know what the paper might be about, but instinctively she wanted to examine it quickly without arousing suspicion in Doctor Watson. Anyhow, everything in Dr. Watson intrigued her since she had noticed the great interest of the Sergeant Porter in him.

Being far enough away from the place, in some corner of another improvised room, at last the doctor Judy took the paper from her pocket and then realized what was written.

 _John Porter_

 _7-12 Hamilton FXx Street,_

 _Building 4, 3rd floor,_

 _W1F London._

 _Phone: 7X4905XX_

Dr. Judy realized that something excessively valuable had fallen into her hands for her own benefit, and her face flashed a shameless smile. Yet at the same time she could not help feeling terrible jealousy to know that John Watson had obtained the address of Sergeant Porter, but now that paper was in her hands would not let John Watson recover it for any reason. Besides, the doctor Judy was quite sure that this must have been the sergeant's handwriting, because it was not the same as Dr. John Watson's handwriting, which she already knew quite well since she was accustomed to always seeing his reports.

While she was still seeing that paper in her hands, John Watson had not yet realized that the sheet of paper had fallen off, he was completely attentive to assist his patients, that afternoon had arrived freshly wounded but only suffering slight scrapes.

He did not imagine the doctor Judy was rejoicing at having his wealthy paper.

...

 **London England**

In London, the Sergeant Porter awoke very early, shortly before dawn. That night he had had a wonderful dream like few others, he had dreamed that the interruption between him and Dr. Watson had not happened and that instead had been able to fully enjoy the sweet taste of his lips kissing his. In the dream this had been a great pleasant, wonderful sensation, he could almost have dreamed of the softness of John Watson's fiery lips melting with his own in the midst of that military encampment, not inhibited by the fact of who of their companions could see them, but that had been only a dream.

It was not long after the sergeant awoke from that dream when a couple of nurses knocked on his door. He had invited them in and they told him that the surgery would begin in a little while. Porter nodded, had been expecting more than anything, even if he did not like to go into an operating room.

In a few minutes they began to prepare the sergeant to take him to the surgery room and in a few minutes more he had been given anesthesia to begin the procedure.

"I hope we do not have to delay too long, Mr. John, that's why I suggest you relax," said the doctor to the sergeant when anesthesia began to take effect. And as he began to feel that numbness, Porter thought back to Dr. Watson and to the fantasies his mind was increasingly insisting on creating. He had felt very strange to have such an obsession with another man, as he had not had before, a sensation as strange as the numbness he now felt in his leg. However, although it was strange, it was very pleasurable, exciting, he would have not imagined that another man would make him feel such things, even in such a short time, but it was certain that John Watson was not any man, he was different, sublime, unique.

The surgery went on for a while, John Porter's broken bones had really been damaged, but the doctors had been able to fix them as best they could. In the early afternoon, the sergeant was back in his assigned room, from now on his recovery would be more serious. In addition, the doctors had also minutely inspected the healing progress of his other wounds. They were glad that the gunshot wounds had been well assisted at the British military base in Afghanistan and they greatly praised their fellow medical officers who had been done an excellent job.

By the time the sergeant was at rest after the operation, he still felt the effects of the anesthesia. He hoped the next day would come, because despite the soldiers' restraint, he was determined to try to contact Dr. John Watson in Afghanistan, and he wished he did not have to wait too long to be discharged, though he knew that once passed that would have to face outside the fact to move of house to not be more in danger.

….

 **Lashkar Gah, Afghanistan. British military base**

That same afternoon John Watson finished checking and arranging certain records of the patients they had had in the last few weeks, could not help but pause when he got to see the record of Sergeant John Porter because he did not avoid remembering in a series of exciting images all the moments that had passed with him during those days of his stay, and every time he did, he smiled to himself, and a sea of pleasurable sensations plunged his stomach.

The time came when he had to hand over those records to the manager of his crew and then he took his rest. He stretched his muscles a little when he was out of the way, in the middle of the hall, and then he set out to move to a place to take his rest. Still had several hours to finish the day, so they could continue to work at any time, even though he really wished he did not have to be like that, really what he enjoyed most about those quiet days was not precisely having more time to rest, but what he really liked was they were not have to assist more injured soldiers and much less having fallen among the military.

In some corner, John Watson finally found an empty bench to sit for a while and when he took a seat he chose to take out of his pocket the sheet of paper he thought he had kept well all that time there, but great was his surprise at not being able to feel it when he entered his hand inside his pocket. Glancing inside, he could not see it and decided to get up and try to find it in some other of his pockets, but he was not successful in finding it. His desperation grew enormously, the damn paper was there, and that gradually alarmed him.

"Maybe I left it somewhere else," he told himself, still trying to remain calm.

Then the blond doctor ran to the bedrooms and soon headed for his own bed where his belongings were also. He looked for the paper in each of his clothes, in the drawer where he kept some things and under the bed, but he could not find that sheet of paper. He felt more and more frustrated and desperate, realizing that he had misplaced the paper, of great sentimental value, somewhere, and could not help lamenting it.

"I've been an idiot! How could I lose the sheet of paper that John gave me with his address? Now how can I get it back? I have no fucking idea where it might be!" he rebuked himself again, clenching his fists tightly.

He chose to search again between his things in the bedroom but he did not find the paper again, he knew that it was useless to keep insisting on looking there, so he decided to go out and look for it, perhaps by chance he could find it on the floor of some corridor or in the area where he had been working that afternoon.

And for a long time he was looking for the sheet of paper, but in spite of his efforts he could never find it. He felt utterly frustrated and hopeless when he decided to surrender. Lose that paper suddenly made him feel much more far away from John Porter, even more than he had felt always.

But even though internally it made him feel really depressed, on the outside he would not show it. It was part of his military discipline to always show stoicism, coupled with the fact that he should never falter before anything, much less in a situation as hostile as being abroad in an area of conflict. A military man, even if he was only a doctor and not an expert on weapons like John Porter, should never let his guard down.

But that night, in spite of his external worrying, John Watson could not help feeling great anxiety. He did not know how he could communicate with John Porter now that he had carelessly lost the paper that he himself had given him with devotion. He could remember much of the address, but he was entirely convinced that it was a fact he had not fully memorized. And with his mind full of anguish, that night he could not sleep well. He could not help but wonder how John Porter could be in London at that moment, and if he had already had some surgery by then. He could not stop thinking about his seriously injured companions, but even though he seemed selfish, he preferred not to think too much about them because he had personally assisted such terrible bloody wounds and amputations, since that could rob him of his sleep even more. Instead he preferred to remember the handsome Sergeant John Porter, he was still intent on believing that John Porter also was in love with him, because he had felt it, because that brushing of their lips could not have been just a sign of gratitude and camaraderie, Watson was quite convinced that all this bodily contact, that seductive voice of the dark sergeant, effusively expressing his gratitude for assisting him, and that sultry sensual blue gaze projected on his were sure signs of his romantic and sexual interest in him.

It was wonderful to think that this was the truth, though another part of his psyche was constantly trying to echo in warning him that none of this could be true, because perhaps the sergeant had always been a womanizer and would never have any interest in any man like him.

Although Dr. Watson spent a little of insomnia from his concern, he finally managed to fall asleep, thinking about Sergeant Porter and how wonderful it was to continue to believe that someone as heroic as he was really interested in a male doctor like him.

After falling asleep, while suffering some of the intense cold of the night desert, it was not long before several dreams began to be processed in his mind. Among one of them, perhaps even the most lucid of that night, John Watson began to dream of himself in the middle of one of the improvised rooms of the military base, specifically in one of the rooms where they usually assisted the wounded patients.

He saw himself dressed in his white robe on his military uniform as he walked across the room to the bed in front of him, where he soon noticed that Sergeant John Porter was sitting with bandages around his torso but, in the dream, apparently the sergeant had not serious wounds that would overwhelm him. And then, John Watson saw himself smiling at him and saying something.

"Sergeant, how did you wake up today?" inquired the blond in that dream.

John Porter smiled at him with coquettish malice and the seduction of his particular gaze on him, his expression seemed to invite him to sit beside him on the edge of the bed, to which Watson immediately agreed.

"I could not be better, Doctor, thanks to your attention that has been vital," said the sergeant in reply.

John Watson blushed at his compliment, even though it was only a dream he could fully sense, as did the sensation of a thousand butterflies fluttering in his stomach, because of the infatuation of the virile sergeant.

And even though it was a dream, he could suddenly feel John Porter's hands caressing his with intent.

"I've totally fallen in love with you, John ..." the sergeant heard in a whisper full of sensuality as he decidedly took the blond doctor's face recklessly and brought him closer to his slowly approaching his lips with his clear intention to kiss him

"John ... I'm ... I'm in love with you, too," the blond doctor said, trembling as he began to feel the lips of the strong sergeant brushing his, and after that they began to kiss. Despite being only a dream, John Watson could feel John Porter's desperate mouth kissing his own, he could feel the warmth of that fervent kiss that became more and more passionate, and Watson could not believe that it was happening, he knew that it was a dream, but he wanted to believe that it was not, that it was something totally real and that nothing could interrupt them to continue demonstrating everything they needed, just as the arms of both embraced each other to feel their bodies entirely, and the dream continued, feeling quite real.

But in the same way that it began, it soon began to become a more diffuse dream, as it usually did, until John Watson knew that the dream was over and another dream began, one that was not as durable and lucid as that, but In which he also saw himself in the company of Sergeant John Porter. In the new dream, he and the dark-haired sergeant walked together holding hands in the streets of London and together enjoyed a pleasant conversation, which the next day could not remember exactly.

What John Watson could remember when he woke up would be the great joy he had experienced in the dream in the midst of that amusing time of living with John Porter in that familiar English environment in which peace was clearly perceived and some rain in the background, a panorama so different from the hostility of that strange and arid land, always in constant conflict. A complete contrast.

And before that dream also faded into his unconsciousness, he found himself kissing sweetly with Sergeant Porter in front of the Elizabeth tower, while Big Ben sounded the new hour. Before the dream ceased to be lucid, he could feel John Porter's strong arms wrapping around his waist and drawing his body to his to tighten and feel him closer to him, while their lips continued to kiss in frenzy, despite that the difference in height caused them a small and inevitable problem, and ignoring the eyes of some curious who saw them passing by. There nothing mattered, in their native land and both wearing civilian clothes their love could be fully demonstrated.

It was a wonderful night, like few he had had in recent years or as he had not had since his late teens, maybe even the first wonderful dream he had had in that strange land. And he could not regret anything, because even if it was only the product of his unconsciousness, those dreams with Sergeant Porter, of which he was in love, filled him with immense bliss.

The rest of his sleep was refreshing, despite having previously suffered insomnia. At dawn, shortly before the Sun out, as was usual to wake up, John Watson smiled as soon as he opened his eyes to wake up. He immediately remembered his passionate romance with John Porter in those one-night dreams. To remember him constantly throughout his day would fill him with excellent spirits all day.

...

 **London, England. Hospital**

While John Watson began his daily activities at the military base along with the rest of his companions, in England the night was half way. At that time, John Porter, who was in a hospital in London, was in deep sleep. The condition of his body after surgery had made him fall into a heavy sleep and would hardly wake up many hours later. His body recovering would make him sleep until mid-morning.

While he slept, his mind worked various little lucid dreams that upon awakening he would not remember completely. But halfway through his dream, he began to experience the lucidity of one of his dreams, in which he saw himself with the blond Dr. John Watson, in a mutual flirtation that he immediately began to enjoy.

"I see that your wounds have been healing quite well, sergeant," Dr. Watson said in his sleep, while gently stroking one of the pectorals of the dark haired sergeant, where a few days ago there had been a severe scratch. The dream was so lucid that John Porter could feel the warmth of John Watson's touch caressing his now-healed skin where there would be a large scar, and he could feel how sensually the blond doctor began to outline that scar with the fingers of his left hand.

And John Porter smiled at him with malicious sensuality as he reached out to subtly stroke his doctor's fair hair. And then he could see John Watson's smile on his lips, which he was desperate to kiss.

"All thanks to you, Doctor," replied John Porter seductively manly, while his hand, which had been stroking the doctor's golden hair, was now beginning to descend to caress his face.

And at his reply, John Porter watched with enthusiasm as Dr. John Watson seemed to blush. He could not believe how beautiful that subtle blush made him look, in front of him, making perfect combination with his juicy pink lips that urged him to kiss him more and more.

In the dream, John Porter could feel his effusion reach its climax, even if there had not yet been any contact between them beyond those sublime caresses. He could still feel Dr. Watson's soft, warm hands caressing his entire chest, sliding sensuously across his skin, and he could feel his breath close to his, because their faces were drawing closer in the midst of all that sexual tension. They were both silent, smiling at each other, and their eyes were mingling in a fixed gaze, the dreamlike situation made the sergeant feel that the mixture of their eyes was an inexplicable combination of their own blue gaze combined with the nuances of the beautiful gray look of the blond doctor.

"You are so beautiful, I love you ... John Watson," said the sergeant, as he continued to stare at the doctor's slightly flushed face. He realized that at that moment he was taking off his shirt, John Watson had recklessly unbuttoned it just a few moments ago. John Porter's effusion increased even more, and he could not help but feel a tremendous emotion, Dr. Watson was provoking him too much, and although he was enjoying the game of flirting, he could not help himself.

John Watson realized immediately as soon as John Porter began to remove his shirt and boldly began to help him to finish undressing him. John Watson was probably as desperate as he was to feel the contact of their hot bare skins together.

"Ah, John ... your body is so perfect, you're all a man of war ..." muttered the blond doctor sensuously making use of his innate sweet voice, and this only ended up driving John Porter crazy, much more than he already was. And although it was only a dream, John Porter could not help feeling the hardness that had taken over his manhood.

"I like it so much to feel you like this at last, John ..." the sergeant whispered close to his ear, his voice sounded irregular due to the excitement that gradually increased.

"I too, I'm so excited to feel you this way at last, John, I could not resist it any more ... I know I needed it so much from the first moment I saw you" whispered the blond in response, letting out some shortened moans, trying in vain to conceal the great joy that gradually received from the strong sergeant with every intrepid caress that he ventured under Watson's clothes.

"I cannot believe this is happening at last, I've become addicted to you, John, but it was such a strange and new sensation to me that I did not know how to get you, I was scared" whispered the sergeant as he explored with his hands every inch of the white skin of the blond doctor, which however was now a little bit more tanned by the desert sun.

"Ahh, John, were you scared? Haha, I do not believe you ... you are, all a man of war, brave and... very strong" muttered the blond overjoyed as his hands settled on the sergeant's dark hair, sinking his phalanges on some tufts , And suddenly winced as he felt the sergeant's intrepid fingers begin to poke inside him.

"Aahh" the blond gave a moan of pleasure, Porter could feel the mixture of excitement in his face ranged by his fear, he knew that actually the blond did not really have experience with it, and he thought he must be much more docile to him.

"Haha, I was scared, yes, that you would never give in to me, that you would refuse to correspond to me and even worse that after your rejection you wanted to stay away from me," John Porter said between whispers close to his ear, touching under his clothes to stimulate him, and after noting that John Watson was smiling nervously at what he had just told him, Porter nibbled a little on his ear to calm him.

The blond doctor continued to feel the stimulation of the sergeant's large, rough hands, he knew that his arousal was at an all-time high, and he knew that once the sexual union was consummated he would inevitably fall into madness, but he was mentally prepared for it and he really was desperate for it to happen at once. And Porter also became more and more exasperated every moment.

The sergeant continued kissing him with desperation all over his body until he took over his lips again, and suddenly he was finally placed between the legs of the blond doctor with his thick erection pointing to penetrate him at any moment. John Watson could feel the warmth of the sergeant's imposing member's glans brushing his pre-dilated entrance and bit his lips a little when he began to feel as John Porter began to go into him.

"Ahh!" yelled the blond doctor, squirming a little as he began to feel the rigidity of the invasion of the member of his new lover, and when Porter decided to put it in full, John Watson clung to his strong back, to feel the dark-haired begin to ram into him. It was an uncomfortable sensation and it certainly hurt a little, but he could not deny that it was gradually becoming something intensely pleasurable.

Their bodies were at last uniting, melting together in the carnal pleasure that they had so long wished to have together from those first days in which they had met and that they had since developed.

"Ahh," they moaned as they felt the immense pleasure of union. Porter pounded inside him with greater frenzy each time, it was really a wonderful feeling he had never before felt with any of his countless lovers, and it really drove him crazy to explore John Watson's semi-naked body while he made him of him, to know much more of that body that was different and at the same time biologically similar to his, that felt so deliciously narrow that he felt that he would ejaculate soon within the blond.

"Ahh," John Watson groaned louder as he felt the dark-haired sergeant increase the power of his thrusts inside him and groaned also because of the enormous pleasure that the sensation of his caresses caused him. Together they were getting crazy; no one could regret that this was happening.

It was a dream so vivid that it certainly seemed too real, every sensation and every breath near the other, every kiss at intervals to recover the air a little, but inevitably it was only a dreamlike situation, it was nothing more than a dream created with his subconscious and soon would end because the sergeant would be about to wake up despite his convalescence.

"Wow, it was just a dream ...!" Sergeant John Porter told to himself, waking up in the middle of his hospital room. He sighed at the time when he got up a little and noticed that the anesthesia seemed to have lost its full effect at that time as he began to feel really sore where the surgical sutures were left.

John Porter watched the room for a moment, still enjoying the pleasurable sensation he had experienced in his damp dreams, which had precisely resulted in a nocturnal spill of his seed, as he had not done for a long time.

As he tried to sit up a little, Porter noticed immediately that his fractured leg was surrounded by a heavy outer metal device to fix the fractures of his bones, which prevented him from moving more easily.

After inspecting his hospital room a little, he looked at the clock. The hour indicated that it was almost half a day, he had certainly slept almost double what a normal person would do and that was because his body was still weak. The pain in his sutures was constant, especially if he tried to move, in addition to the fact that the pain of the other injuries caused by the ambush with the terrorists in Afghanistan was still present. Not even two weeks had passed since that, after all, but every day he was more and more exasperated not to be able to move freely and to remain sore and numb most of the time. He was exasperated to be in the hospital and exasperated to have to ask for help in doing several things, but above all he was exasperated to know nothing of Dr. John Watson.

"It was a wonderful dream ... how I wish it would come true!" The sergeant said to himself every moment, as he leaned his head against his pillow.

With great effort the sergeant managed to get out of bed and despite the pain then managed to head to the bathroom to clean himself. The pain in the sutures and injuries was terrible, but he could not allow any nurse to assist him and realized that he had had an obvious wet dream as a teenager, he did not want anyone to know, out of modesty and because he did not want to have the bad lucky to deal with another nurse or female doctor who put an insistent interest in him like that stupid woman in Afghanistan and try to harass him. He felt strange that he wanted to avoid meeting more women, because all he wanted at that moment was to consummate his relationship with the blond doctor he was totally taken with.

The sergeant was slightly indignant that they had not considered giving him crutches to be able to move, with much effort could support the newly operated foot on the floor even if it did hurt like hell, but knew he could make it to the room of bathroom leaning against the wall. He managed to do it with great effort after a few tortuous minutes and at last managed to get under the shower. He was not sure if contact with the water could damage his recent sutures, and if he had no problem with the fixation device in his leg, his wounds burned when he felt contact with water, but being a strong man of war experienced of over 40 years old who had previously experienced multiple injuries with improvised cures, this was not going to stop him. He tried to relax thinking about the doctor he longed to possess, tried to revive in his mind those vivid images he had experienced in his dreams, and tried to conceive what it would really be like to join his body to John Watson's body in wonderful copulation, wishing fervently that that would happen soon.

"I promise to go for you, John, I promise to be with you soon ...and I'll leave you away from all that dramatic situation. I'll make love to you every day, in every corner... make you mine forever," he whispered constantly in the midst of his fantasy under the shower. The wounds were still burning, but they did not seem to affect the sutures. The pain combined with the memory of John Watson began to create a mixture of ecstasy that was concentrated in his crotch. At one point his cock had lifted hard again, he must calm his arousal with his hand. He considered that he had not masturbated in that way for a long time, and although he had been greatly attracted by the blond doctor for days, he had never touched himself that way, thinking of him. This was the first time he would do it for the doctor, and it was also the first time he would do it for another man. Thinking about it made him even more excited. And in that way, alienated by the fantasy his masturbation became raptured. He spilled again in ejaculation caused by the memory of the blond doctor, whose image did not dissipate from the sergeant's mind as he watched as the running water dilute his newly poured seed.

"Ahh, John, I do not know how much more I can resist this, your absence is killing me, more than this bloody convalescence," Porter said to himself in a very low voice. His body was still aching, his wounds burned, but he felt self-satisfied. He had released some of what he had had to suppress since the doctor had begun to cause him such feelings.

"Mr. Kennedy?" A female voice suddenly asked, calling him from the outside by the false name with which he had been registered in the hospital to avoid suspicion. Porter knew it was not a familiar voice, although it sounded common. At that moment he closed the shower key and with difficulty took a towel to dry while responding to the call, which the woman had done for the second time.

"Here in the shower, I'll be right out in a moment," the sergeant replied.

She was one of the nurses who had to assist him, who, after seeing that Porter had bathed himself without help, was only surprised.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened the rest of the day.

...

 **Lashka Gah, Afghanistan. British Military Base**

While John Porter was still in hospital in London, recovering from his surgeries, John Watson remained uneasy in the arid land of Afghanistan at the British base.

Another day had begun in Afghanistan, and the movement in the military camp that had been guarded there had not been very different from other days, but more calmly, fortunately. No serious incidents had occurred that day. The soldiers who had to make their respective routine exits to the nearby towns had not had any setbacks, nor had they had to face anyone. But the danger to the base remained latent, so in agreement with the armies of other allied countries, they had decided to change its location soon.

The medical staff had to continue to care for the wounded, but they had not had to deal with serious injuries, but in any case they were always busy.

However, at no time John Watson stopped thinking about Sergeant John Porter, and of course losing his address was what worried him most.

It had been several days since John Porter and the other wounded had left for England. From that moment he had not heard from him again and had no way of maintaining contact. The WiFi of the base was not very good, besides its use was restricted as well as any device. John Watson had never been adept at technology, but since John Porter had left he had been more restless than ever before to have access to it.

"No way! I cannot find anywhere the paper that the sergeant Porter gave me! Luckily I already wrote what I remembered from the address on another paper. But I really do not know how I can communicate with him. I do not know if he is trying to communicate with me or if they forbidden him. Although I suppose that must be that, after all, Zahir and that official are looking for him so the sergeant should not be allowed to communicate with the outside and much less with this base. Besides, how important would it be for a sergeant like him to try to communicate with a simple army doctor like me? There's no doubt I will not see John Porter in a long time, and maybe ... when that happens ... things cannot be the same," John Watson told his colleague Dr. Raymond and best friend in the camp, when they were in a rest time.

Raymond realized that John Watson was extremely disheartened, being soldiers had always been instructed in the handling of their feelings of all kinds, but he really could realize that the mood of his dearly beloved blond companion was not right. John Watson was sad, most of the day because of John Porter's departure, though he could not deny that having been dreaming about the sergeant during those nights made him very happy to wake up every morning. But things could not be different, he had to be realistic. While he was in that camp in the middle of that strange land and in the hostile environment of the military occupation, he could not be happy consummating a relationship with the sergeant, besides that in spite of everything he was not really sure until that moment that John Porter had the same sexual and sentimental interest in him.

"Come on, do not be discouraged, I'm sure you'll be able to talk to him again soon, and when you least expect it, you can see him again, and I'm sure that from everything you've told me, you and he can be more than just companions. I can guess he's feeling the same like you, John," Raymond said honestly, trying to cheer him up while giving him a friendly pat on the back.

"Thanks for the encouragement, but I am realistic. Besides I cannot allow myself to be so selfish, I know that my duty here is to serve as a doctor of the militia and one of the things I gave up for it is that, being here, I am not allowed to have contact with the outside at my whim, much less with a superior like Sergeant Porter and above all because due to certain political conflicts that we already know, a nexus with him represents a danger for the base, for himself and for the United Kingdom," said Watson.

"I know, but that will not stop you both from getting back together soon, you'll see," said Raymond cheerfully, John Watson looked up at him and smiled for a moment, he really liked having the support of a good colleague and friend like Raymond, and really wished he could feel more comforted.

"You're right, I suppose I just have to be patient. Eventually I'll see Sergeant Porter again, and then we'll see what happens between us," said the blond.

Activities in the military camp continued normally. John Watson tried to remain a bit more optimistic. But he did not find the notebook paper again.

...

 **London, England.**

Since the return of Sergeant John Porter and the rest of his comrades to England, it had been about two weeks. From the second day of his surgical intervention, Sergeant Porter had been transferred to another hospital in much greater privacy to prevent enemies from following him. The hospital where he had been transferred had a much more sophisticated surveillance, where he had to stay for several days until his recovery, which despite not seeming complicated would be slow. He could not be allowed to discharge yet and still needed a couple more surgeries so that his broken bones and other contusions could be treated well. Every day and every night the sergeant thought of Dr. John Watson, he was continually fantasizing about him again, he simply could not explain why someone he had hardly known for just a few days could have made such an impact in him. John Watson simply could not help but occupy his thoughts and fantasies that often made him back to have masturbations and wet dreams.

During that time in the midst of his great despair, on more than one occasion John Porter tried to contact the blond doctor, but all seemed useless. He was not allowed to have contact with the military base and at his insistence the personnel who guarded him chose to deny him contact with the outside, even if these were local calls. His life could be at risk with Arlington, Zahir, and his men on the prowl, and even more so if Porter tried desperately to contact the military base, for which the sergeant had not of course declared his true purpose.

"Sergeant, I do not understand why you have twice insisted on contacting the military base in Afghanistan. Could you explain your interest in it? Is it something important that you have not told us yet or is it just that you want to get the base in trouble? That is extremely irresponsible of you and could cost your rank," demanded one of his superiors with a frown due to the seriousness of the matter. John Porter had been trying to evade the answer for an instant when the superior had questioned him.

"A personal matter, nothing to interfere with the base," Porter explained succinctly, with serious gaze, as he lay on the bed of his room, the heavy and cramped metal structure around his broken leg still made him lie down most of the time.

"I do not know what personal matter you are talking about but I demand that you never again try to contact the base in Afghanistan, do not fall into that irresponsibility, it would be too reckless on your part, Sergeant. You're not even allowed to have local contact at the moment, less with Afghanistan, since Arlington, Zahir and his men already know that you're in England, so take your responsibility and we will not take away your rank or keep you under strict surveillance. "

"I'm sorry sir, that's the way it will be" John Porter replied seriously but looking at his superior with the firmness that every military man has.

"Can you tell me what kind of personal matter you're talking about, Sergeant?" The superior inquired strictly.

Porter paused before speaking.

"It's really something personal, but I'm going to avoid it completely," the sergeant said in response, his eyes averted a little.

"How personal and urgent should it be for a sergeant like you to try to have contact with the military base in a complicated occupation like Afghanistan while you are convalescing?" inquired the superior, his face framing more formality.

"I wanted to ... contact a colleague, a doctor at the base, I wanted to thank him for all the attention he had with me since I could not do it while I was there," said Sergeant Porter at last.

The superior was surprised at the explanation of his purpose, especially because he could see in Porter's words that that purpose was emotional and not mere cordiality, Porter really wanted to contact that mate, although by the way the sergeant had sounded his words ye could not help noticing that it was really something more than mere affection.

"Sergeant, I dare to ask if it is a woman. It would not be ethical of me to try to infer, but speaking as a civilian I dare to do it a little. I know there are quite attractive female doctors who have recently been sent there, I met two of them personally," said the superior trying to investigate, a little out of his military posture.

Porter was surprised at his immediate supposition, and even more so because he seemed to be aware, because he knew what his superior was referring to, the fact that his purpose was sentimental or sexual. Although it was true, in fact the superior was wrong with the genre of that doctor he was interested, but Porter did not was willing to confess that superior was right, but in reality it was a male doctor.

"Ah, no, he's actually just a fellow doctor, who by the way bears the same name as I," John Porter explained, though he continued to speak firmly, his voice was a little lower, as if he were trying to elude as much as possible the matter and settle it immediately.

"I see, forgive my impertinence for supposing something that was not. Of course is that although the militia does not prohibit it all the best is not to establish sentimental ties between colleagues, and I do not want to be misunderstood the fact that I mentioned that our female doctors are attractive, because that would be misogynistic of me. Our companions are sent for their abilities, although it may be inevitable to look at some of them, it is proper to the human being" explained the superior.

"Do not worry, sir, and I assure you that it's not a woman, but I really intend to contact the doctor ...John Watson, I have much to thank him for and I have no other way to contact him," the sergeant admitted.

"Do not despair, and if you wish, I can help you to get in contact with him, discreetly without having to try to contact the base. You should have told me before you tried, Sergeant" said the superior, despite he was a very strict man also had a friendly and empathetic side with his companions.

To hear him say that pleased Sergeant John Porter greatly, though his rejoicing had to keep it to himself.

"I thank you very much for that, sir," Porter said, smiling prudently.

"Write a letter and I will personally send it to the Doctor who mentioned, without a sender for not to be interfered with, but do it soon, before I repent," said the superior.

"I'll do it today, sir," said Porter, inwardly he was more cheerful.

"By the way, the doctor said that the discharge may be given in two more days, but I fear you would not be able to return to your home by then, as you already knew. So we got a new place to live for you, north of Wales. The staff will personally take you there."

"All right, sir," replied John Porter without protest; though he knew he would be forced to live elsewhere he had not imagined that it might be too far. But at least he could get in contact with the blond Doctor John Watson and warn him.

After talking more about the Arlington and Zahir's affair, Sergeant John Porter was left alone again in his hospital room, at last he could at least expose to himself a little of his enthusiasm, which the nurses could notice. During those days he had been unable to talk to anyone other than those nurses who came in constantly to assist him, although they had never been able to establish a greater relationship with him than only to be their patient, but that was better, after all. He did not want to get involved with anyone other than Dr. John Watson. He did not want to have a woman harassing him again like Dr. Judy in Afghanistan.

But sometimes he really needed to talk to someone.

...

That same afternoon, Sergeant Porter was able to write enthusiastically a letter to Dr. John Watson. Fortunately one of the nurses had gotten him a sheet of paper and a writing pen. Porter also asked for a letter envelope.

In the letter, John Porter wrote many of the things he had wanted to tell John Watson, beginning by greeting him and expressing to him how much he had missed him. He expressed his gratitude, would never tire of it, but in that letter he could not declare his true feelings and everything that the blond doctor had caused in him, because that was something that of course he had to tell personality in front of him, in a place and at a suitable time, although for the moment the desperation to declare it was ending his patience. In addition, although the service was strict and respectful could not avoid that there was the possibility that someone else read the letter. He should not compromise anything. It must have been a cordial letter in which he could not even put his name completely.

 _Dear Dr. John Watson:_

 _I'm Sergeant John, you know who, writing from a hospital room in England. I cannot even mention the point where I am, and I cannot say too much about what has happened here but everything has improved on my injuries. It has been two tortuous weeks between surgeries and recovery, I am still convalescing and I cannot move too much. Sutures and injuries hurt like hell yet. Haha you wouldn't want to see what the doctors have put around my leg, a metal thing that externally surrounds my fracture. Sure you know the name of that thing, you're the expert. That's why you do not know how much I've been missing your care, which I still greatly appreciate. I could never tire of it and I cannot help but admire the stoicism and dedication that you keep with each of the patients that you have to help to. I do hope that things there have not worsened and that on the contrary there have been no more comrades seriously injured, or fallen soldiers to mourn. Anyway I know that you will always be there tenaciously to assist them, however hard it may be._

 _I really wish I could meet you again, I hope that can be sooner than we hope. I will be discharged in a few days, although my recovery will not be complete, I am desperate to get out of here, but I'm patient. I promise that even if it is difficult, I shall return to Afghanistan to help our comrades, to serve the nation and to have a pleasant time with you again, as I had in my short stay there._

 _I appreciate you and I admire you, John. See you soon._

 _P.S. For security reasons I have been forced to change my address, and for that reason I cannot reveal by this means where I am going to live from now on. But we'll find a way to get back in contact._

 _-Sincerely- Sergeant John_

"Ah, it hurt me like as fucking hell to write this letter, but I'm very happy that I can send it to John to Afghanistan," John Porter mumbled when he finished writing, his hand still was quite sensitive due to the injuries.

The next morning, the sergeant was able to hand it over to his superior who had come back to visit him. The envelope had no sender as he had indicated, but it had the clear recipient to Dr. John Watson at the base of Lashka Gah.

Porter wanted to trust that everything would work out well.

...

The days at the military camp of the British militia in Afghanistan had been varied, sometimes they could have quiet days without serious injuries to assist to, and at other times they had regrettably had to face again mortal injuries in their companions. Things were still very hectic in the place, because the radical groups had been trying to maintain the control in several regions and to recover others more. The camp had almost everything ready to move its facilities. It had been another couple of weeks since John Porter had sent that letter to Dr. John Watson as he continued to recover in his new home in North Wales, where no one knew where he was, except for a few of his superiors in the militia and in MI6, who now had a new commander in charge of the position that Collinson had left after his death in Afghanistan.

John Porter's leg still had the annoying plaster covered by the metal structure, and still prevented him from moving, and the pain increased with the cold. But most of his injuries had recovered, he no longer had to rely on painkillers. He still felt desperate because it were all over, he felt helpless to stay at home all the time and worse being in an unfamiliar place where he had not been able to explore the new neighborhood.

All those days he could not stop thinking about Dr. Watson, and wondered if the letter he had sent him had already come to him.

The truth was that at the time the letter was about to be received by Dr. Watson, while he attended his responsibilities at the military base, beginning the day in Afghanistan.

"Hey, Dr. Watson, correspondence has arrived for you," one of his companions announced to the blond doctor, extending the envelope to him. John Watson was surprised by this, but something in it made him immediately realize that it might be a correspondence sent by Sergeant John Porter and that moved him inwardly.

"Ah, thank you," said the blond, and after delivering the letter, Watson's companion left.

John Watson observed the envelope for a moment before opening it, the envelope had no sender but clearly had the stamps of the Queen of England and the postage mark sent from London. Receiving such an envelope in a place like this was truly unusual, and he had no one to send him letters, but John Watson was almost certain that the envelope had been sent from Sergeant Porter.

With great excitement he hurried to open the envelope and immediately extended the letter that was folded. He had noticed that there was also a photo inside the envelope.

The handwriting was totally recognizable for him; it was the same handwriting with which John Porter had written the address on that notebook paper. Although John Watson had had that notebook paper with him for a very short time before he lost it, he had been able to memorize the sergeant's handwriting.

"Ah, it's a letter from John!" said the blond effusive, although in a low voice and for himself, he was alone in that small room that served as a small store of medicines. That was why he did not want to read the letter there, he had to find a more intimate and agreeable place, he wanted to read without interruption and alone where he could externalize his feelings of reading what John Porter had written him. But just reading "dear John" could not doubt that it was a good letter.

Dr. John Watson hurried out of there and walked quickly down the corridor to the rooms, he had kept the letter in his pocket before.

"Ah, Dr. Watson, I almost forget but the superior of the crew wants to see you. He told me to tell you," Dr. Judy's voice suddenly, just when she was walking near him.

When John Watson heard his voice, he could not avoid out for a moment of his rapture, inevitably the doctor Judy always caused him displeasure, there was an inescapable rivalry between them, but there was no further discussion.

"Ah, I'm going in a couple of minutes, tell that to the superior, please," replied the blond doctor, in a very serious voice and barely turning to see her.

But the doctor Judy realized that the blond doctor was anxious, more than usual, and noticing that his hands were indecisively in his pockets, she sensed that something was happening. But later she would find out.

"Okay, I'll tell him," she replied, looking at him with some disdain, but soon she turned and continued on her way.

Meanwhile, John Watson went to his bedroom quickly and there he was finally able to read the sergeant's letter, which he eagerly read with great emotion.

"Ah, John ... I did not think you would do this for me, sending a letter from London to here, Afghanistan, only for me," the doctor muttered to himself as he read the letter again, which had also been accompanied by a small photograph of the sergeant smiling with an everyday London scene in the background.

John Watson had also read what John Porter had written behind the picture.

 _"Maybe it's too annoying to send you my photo, but I do not want you to forget me. I wish I could look like this with you in the photo, I swear one day it will happen. And I wish I could have a photo of you, but I think that will not be possible soon_

 _-John"_

"Aww, damn it, sergeant, in addition you sent me your picture!" said the blond effusively as he watched the photograph of the sergeant with pleasure, and then he dared to kiss the photo a little, with a subtle touch of his lips "you really look very handsome in this photo, as you are in person" said the blond to himself.

He would have wanted to stay that way for a while, but he could not, he had already delayed going with his crew. He quickly put the letter between his things under his bed, which was the bed below in the bunk. This time he would make sure to keep it locked.

Then the doctor left the room.

 **FLASHBACK END**

….

 **London, Baker Street. 2011**

It was another morning in his new address, and Dr. John Watson had awakened not long ago, though he had not yet finished enlisting. He had to go to the new job he had obtained in a small office to make more money than the government pension provided him.

That morning, after showering and while he was still in his bathrobe, he had sat for a moment reading that same first letter that the fallen sergeant John Porter had sent him to Afghanistan that time, just over half a year ago. Reading the letter had brought him back many memories of what had happened, and with it the longing to have John Porter back at his side, back to life.

But despite the painful memories, reading that letter also brought him all the good memories that his relationship with Sergeant John Porter had brought him.

"Ah John, it's good that you're up and I see you've taken a shower already..." Sherlock said suddenly as he entered the room.

John Watson immediately showed his discomfort.

"Hey, what the hell are you supposed to do?! What did we say about respecting my privacy? This is my room, damn it!" snapped the blond in protest and frowning.

Sherlock looked at him doubtfully, it seemed to him that it was not serious to enter John Watson's room without warning, and he did not really feel guilty about it, so he just kept talking.

"Err yes... sorry. Oh, yes, we have a new case, John. Come on, get dressed. We're leaving in ten minutes," Sherlock said without consideration, and then glanced at John's desk on which was the letter wrote by Porter that he had been reading just a moment ago, then Sherlock left the room.

"Hey, but I have to go to the office right now!" the blond snapped from the doorframe, but Sherlock seemed immersed in the excitement that caused him to think about this new case, he was remarkably excited and thought aloud, so he paid almost no attention to John Watson.

"Did you understand what I said?" Insisted John Watson, but had finished dressing and had left his room as well.

"Oh, do not worry, I'll pay you the day if you want, I mean, I'll ask Mycroft to do it, but I really need your help on this," Sherlock finally answered.

"Well, let's go," said the doctor dryly, even if he did not admit it, he preferred to accompany Sherlock to solve that case than to go to his monotonous routine in the office "damn it, I hope I do not regret it!" he said as he put on the jacket.

Sherlock nodded and headed for the exit and even turning his back to the blond, he spoke.

"John, don't forget to keep your letters and other valuables under lock and key, anyone could see them if we have to go back here with someone else," he said.

John Watson again felt vulnerable to Sherlock's deduction, but he was getting used to it. Without answering or questioning for it, he obeyed the suggestion of his companion.

...

 **Author's Note:** At last I was able to update this fic after one year! XD

I hope that the wait has rewarded this chapter a little, as the circumstances do not yet allow a reunion between Sgt. John Porter and Dr. John Watson but you will see what will happen then.

And especially I apologize if I made mistakes! .

I'm sorry I took so long to update but besides that I have other fics and other things Richartin to do and also have been busy months xD besides sometimes I get depressed because I feel alone with my shipping or I feel that it really does not matter :c and now yes I had to say xD

But my love for Richartin is so much stronger because despite everything I love this beautiful and sexy ship every day more! They inspire me too much all day every day! uwu that's why although late I have the firm intention to continue my fics forever! :3 even if you read me or not, because I do it for my fukin' intense love for the precious sexy couple! :3

Thank you very much those people who continue reading my fics despite the delays!


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